Not Just A Killer
by Hobbit Killer
Summary: Ziva based drabble collection by Hobbit Killer
1. Sisters

A/N: Welcome all to Hobbit Killer's first ever drabble series! Drabbles will be of varying lengths and updates will be random. Basically, drabbles will come when the inspiration strikes me. I cannot guarantee the quality of these one-shots, but I think they're worth reading.

As always, these are Ziva centric, so all Ziva fans are quite welcome to read, review, and offer suggestions for improvement or future drabbles.

Drabble 1

Title: "Sisters" or "Before the Bottom Drops Out"

Words: 730

Warnings: Ending is depressing

---

"Why are you leaving again, Ziva?"

Ziva tried to ignore her younger sister's pleading as she packed a small, non-descript duffle bag with only enough clothes to get her to Saudi Arabia. Once there, she would adopt the clothing and manner of a Muslim until she completed her mission.

"You only just got back from your last mission," Tali continued, undeterred by her sister's silence.

Ziva sighed with exasperation. "Tali, you know it's my job."

It was Tali's turn to let out an exasperated sigh. "That doesn't mean you have to volunteer for every mission that takes you out of the country when you know Dad's going to be home."

Ziva looked at her sister with surprise. "Who said Dad being home had anything to do with it?"

"Oh come on, Ziva," Tali said with slight reproach. "You think Mom and I don't notice that you and Ari do anything and everything to avoid being in the same place as Dad for too long,"

Ziva paused in her packing at Tali' words. Turning, she took the first good look at her sister since Ziva joined Mossad. Tali was nine years Ziva's junior, and had only been a little kid when Ziva joined the "family business" as her father called it. Now, Ziva suddenly found herself struggling to find the small girl who had clung to her waist in a vain attempt to keep her from leaving, to the smart, beautiful woman standing in front of Ziva now.

"You're right," Ziva conceded at last, plopping down on her bed. "I am avoiding Dad."

"Why?" Tali asked, sitting down next to the big sister she adored. "What did he do to you and Ari that made you hate him so much?"

Ziva smiled bitterly at her sister's question. It seemed that Tali was observant enough to notice the tension, but not the cause. "Tali…" Ziva began, but paused to try to find the right words. "Dad had a plan for me and Ari our whole lives, and everything he's done with or for us has been to mold us into perfect Mossad officers. He never saw us as anything more than recruits."

Tali looked at her sister with a face that clearly said she wasn't buying it. "Then why doesn't he treat me like that?" Tali asked what she thought to be a damning question toward Ziva's comment.

Ziva smiled genuinely at Tali's words. "He doesn't treat you like that because you, Tali…" Ziva poked the fifteen-year-old's nose, "…are this family's little miracle. Mom was told she could never have another kid before you came along. You're this family's gift from God."

Tali smiled slightly at her sister's words, but then frowned with realization. "So, you're saying Dad doesn't treat me like he treats you and Ari, because he loves me more? Doesn't that bother you and Ari?"

Ziva's smile faded a little, but it stuck to her face. "It did a little, when we were younger, but Ari has his mom, who loves him dearly, all to himself, and I have Aaron."

Tali smirked at the mention of her sister's boyfriend. "Oh _yes_, how could I forget…" Tali made several exaggerated kissing sounds, "…_Aaron_. Has he asked for your hand in marriage yet, so you two can have lots of sex and babies and make me Aunt Tali?"

Ziva smiled through the blush that colored her face. "No, you little sick minded being," she said. "But we are going to dinner before I leave tonight."

Tali squealed with excitement at her sister's words.

The rest of the evening was spent in the familiar girlish talk shared by sisters, as they discussed what Ziva should wear that night and what soccer player Tali had fallen in love with that week.

As it turned out, Aaron did propose to Ziva that night.

The engagement only lasted a few months before Aaron's head was sent back to Mossad in an overnight express box from Ramallah, courtesy of Hamas.

Ziva's mother and Tali had to nurse Ziva back from the abyss of crippling grief when she got the news.

Ziva had to started to heal when a suicide bomber detonated in a bus stop where Tali was waiting to catch a bus to Mossad Headquarters. She was going to go shopping with her big sister.

---

Wasn't that delightful? Read and Review!

Peace,

Hobbit Killer


	2. All Good Things

Okay, so I see this happening around the end of this season, or the beginning of the next (time line wise). Oh, and incase you get confused later on, when I refer to someone as just "David" that's Ziva's father. It's a Shakespearean thing.

Drabble 2

Title: "All Good Things Must Come to an End"

Words: 1,351

Warnings: none that I can think of

---

Ziva chuckled as McGee struggled to dislodge his hands from his giant coffee mug.

Tony laughed outright until Gibbs came down from MTAC and immediately head slapped his senior field agent. Tony looked at him in surprise. "Wasn't me, Boss!" Tony protested. "You took all my super glue, remember?"

Gibbs just glared at Tony before turning to Ziva. "Officer David," he addressed her sternly.

"Yes, Gibbs?" Ziva's tone gave away nothing.

"I need you in MTAC."

Ziva immediately sobered. She had been expecting this for over a week. Ever since a suicide bombing had taken out a school bus and killed over a dozen Israeli civilians, most of them children, Ziva knew Mossad would come calling.

Ziva stood and headed to the stairs without a word, leaving her teammates staring at her. Gibbs joined her, and the two climbed the stairs side by side in silence.

The first thing Ziva saw when she stepped into the familiar dark room behind Gibbs was her father's unpleasant face. Ziva cringed. She had managed to avoid this man for the three years she'd been in NCIS, and now his intimidating countenance stretched across the biggest screen in MTAC, dwarfing her as he watched her step into view.

Swallowing, Ziva tried to abate her nervousness by looking around the room. She was slightly comforted by Jen's presence. At least the NCIS Director knew how to deal with her father. Ziva wasn't so sure Gibbs would be able to get through this conversation without blowing his…hat? No, that wasn't right.

"Shalom, Officer David." Ziva's father's cool and collected voice broke through his daughter's thoughts. "It has been a while."

Ziva ignored the reproach in her father's voice. "Shalom, Deputy Director," she replied, not venturing a question as to the purpose of the teleconference. It was the first time she had spoken to this man in over a year, and then it had only been a few short words.

David seemed to accept Ziva's unwillingness to talk, and moved right down to business. "I presume you know why I've contacted you."

Ziva nodded briskly in response.

The answer was sufficient for Deputy Director David. "Good," he said, never losing his business-like tone. "Report to the embassy for your deployment details as soon as possible."

David made a motion to cut-off the feed when Gibbs spoke up.

"Wait a second," said Gibbs angrily. "You can't just take her back. She's been on my team for over three years." Gibbs looked right at Ziva. "She's an investigator now, not an assassin. She _belongs_ with us."

Ziva looked at Gibbs in shock.

Never had she felt so welcome as she did in that moment. Throughout her years at NCIS, Ziva had always felt like a stand in: a temporary replacement for Special Agent Todd. It didn't matter that Ziva had been at NCIS longer than Kate. Ziva always had the feeling that she didn't quite fit into the picture as well as Caitlin obviously had.

Now that insecurity could be laid to rest. Too bad it was too late to mean anything.

"I sympathize, Special Agent Gibbs." Deputy Director David didn't seem the least bit sympathetic. "But Ziva is _not_, nor has she ever been, an NCIS agent. She is Mossad, and, therefore, not only owes her allegiance to us, but also belongs fighting for her people." David's gaze honed in directly on his daughter as he spoke the last sentence, as if reminding her what her obligations were.

As if she could forget the obligation that she had lost so much to and sacrificed so much for.

Gibbs, for his part, turned his angry gaze on Director Shepard. "Are you gonna just let them take her?" he demanded. "I thought she was your friend. I thought you owed her!"

Jen turned her own eyes to the ground. "I'm sorry, Jethro." Her voice sounded strained. "But there's nothing I can do. If Mossad refuses to release her from her obligation to them, we cannot force the Israelis to hand her over." Jen's gaze hardened as she looked up at David. "We are allies, after all."

Gibbs stared at her for a moment before turning to leave. He made it up one step before he turned around, speaking directly to Deputy Director David. "I hope you're proud of yourself for enslaving your daughter in a life that will probably get her killed before she reaches forty, David. I hope you curl up and die of grief when you realize the gift you've thrown away to achieve your own ambitions." With these parting words, Gibbs stormed out of MTAC.

David looked slightly unseated by Gibbs's words, but that didn't stop him from addressing his daughter again. "Officer David, you are to report Officer Bashan no later than 1300 tomorrow." He allowed no further argument by cutting-off the connection.

The moment the screen went dark, Ziva turned to the Director, silently asking permission to find Gibbs. At Jenny's assenting nod, Ziva launched herself at the door, knowing Gibbs would be waiting for her in his conference room.

Ziva's instincts were proven correct as the elevator doors opened to reveal a very irate Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The Mossad officer stepped in promptly, turning and settling her gaze firmly on the closing doors.

As expected, the moment the doors closed, Gibbs reached over and flicked the emergency stop switch.

The two stood in silence for a moment.

"How long have you known this was coming?" It was Gibbs who broke the quiet, turning to the young woman he'd seen change so much over the last few years.

"A while." Ziva saw no purpose in hiding the truth at this moment. "Ever since the school bus bombing. It was only the most recent attack orchestrated by a Hamas leader who has grown too bold." Ziva's voice was mechanical and resigned. Emotions were for NCIS; they had no place back at Mossad.

"Why you?"

If Ziva didn't know better, she would have sworn that Gibbs's voice sounded almost desperate. "Because," she said the iron facade she remembered from her spy days shedding its rust, "the target is powerful in the Palestinian government. The job requires both precision and a proper, non-government, motive for the asset, should he or she be caught."

Gibbs looked a little confused. "Proper motive? Wouldn't every Israeli Jew have the proper motive?"

"Yes," said Ziva. "But I have a personal motive. I've lost a sister to Hamas, after all."

Gibbs balked. "You mean to tell me, your father is using your sister's death as an excuse to possibly send you to your own?"

Ziva let loose a dark chuckle. "Welcome to the Mossad family, Gibbs."

Gibbs just shook his head, looking at the ceiling. "Why don't you just quit?"

Ziva kept the rueful smile on her face. "One does not just quit Mossad, Gibbs. Those who join have an obligation to fulfill their contract. Leaving any sooner without permission is the equivalent to deserting, and Mossad will likely send a team after them."

Ziva's words finally drove Gibbs to accept his newest agent's fate. With a mighty sigh, Gibbs turned to Ziva.

Before she could blink, the woman was enveloped in a strong hug more reminiscent of Abby than Gibbs.

"I'm proud of you, Ziva," said Gibbs as he stroked her hair. "You've always been Special Agent David to me."

And suddenly, Ziva couldn't hold on to that mask anymore.

Neither could tell later how long that hug lasted or how long Ziva's tears soaked into Gibbs's black polo shirt, but it was long enough to bring closure to a life left open and unsure for too long.

When Ziva finally pulled away, she was greeted with a firm slap to the back of the head. Her shock must have showed because Gibbs gave her a strained, but satisfied smile. "That's for gluing Tim's hands to his coffee mug as a parting gift."

Ziva smiled, remembering the shock on Tony's face when he was slapped for her prank. "It was worth it," she said. Then, quietly, she added. "All of it."

---

Read and Review

Peace,

Hobbit Killer


	3. Key Discussion

This one is just a little cute, NOT DEPRESSING one-shot that contains some pre-Tiva, or Tiva friendship if you prefer. NOTE: I do not play the piano. This story would be much easier for me if Ziva played the trombone, but she doesn't. I only know the basics of how it works, so if there are any glaring inaccuracies, please try to enjoy the piece anyway.

Drabble 3

Title: "Key Discussion" or "Ebony and Ivory"

Words: 424

Warnings: Lack of pianical (yes, I did make up that word) knowledge 

---

"You know, we're a lot like this piano."

Ziva gave Tony a suspicious look as he sat down at her baby grand piano. She'd been teaching him how to play ever since Gibbs had left, and he was getting pretty good. 

"Really," she said. "And how is that?"

"Well…" Tony had that familiar impish look on his face. "I'm like the white keys and you're like the black keys."

Ziva raised an eyebrow, but allowed Tony to keep going.

"You see," Tony continued. "I, like these white keys, am sweet, but basic." To demonstrate, Tony played a few white keys, each perfectly tuned as it rang through the apartment. "You, however, are unique, almost abrasive, like the black keys." Tony pounded on a few black keys to emphasize his point, letting the unharmonious sounds grate on Ziva's ears. 

Ziva immediately stood from her side of the piano bench, looking offended. "Well," she said in an affronted tone. "I can see why you didn't bring this up until _after_ I fed you."

She moved to storm away, but Tony grabbed her waist and pulled her back to the bench despite her protests.

"Hang on, I'm not finished yet," Tony insisted, holding his partner's shoulders to make sure she didn't attempt to rise from the bench again.

Once he was confident she wouldn't move again, Tony continued. "See, you're annoying."

Ziva gave him a dirty look.

"But, without you, the music has no flare or intrigue." To prove his point, Tony played a short melody using only the white keys. After a few notes, the special agent made a show of pretending to fall asleep on the keys, letting out an obnoxious combination of notes.

Ziva quickly punched his arm, not willing to hear complaints from her neighbors. 

Tony immediately sat back up and smirked at Ziva. "See," he said. "Boring. But with you…" Tony set into a fast-paced tune that included all different notes, both black keyed and white keyed, "… life gets interesting."

Tony finished with a flourish and smirked both triumphantly and expectantly at Ziva.

Ziva stared at him for a moment before speaking. "Tony, that was very sweet." Tony flashed his trademark smile before Ziva continued. "But that doesn't mean I'm going to make you more dessert after you ate an entire cake."

Tony instantly deflated. "Aww, come on! I've been working on that. Can't you appreciate the gesture?" Tony looked at Ziva with his puppy dog eyes.

Ziva gave him a look. "I'm not having sex with you either, Tony."

"Damn." 

---

Thanks for reading! The next update might take a while because I'm a little stuck on my next drabble, and Spring Break is over, but I'll try to get it done ASAP.

Anywho, as always, Read and Review!

Peace, 

Hobbit Killer


	4. Making Nice

"Why does she have to be here

Okay, this one is okay. It kind-of jumps around. Overall, the story is supposed to be the strained beginning of a friendship. It's about Ziva and Abby before they became friends. So, for those of us who remember what that relationship was like, we know that Abby isn't going to be acting like her usual loving self. She really hated Ziva, and Abby feels everything, from love to hate, in the extreme. 

Drabble 4

Title: "Making nice" or "The Start of Something"

Words: 1751

Warnings: Angry Abby. So-so writing

"Why does _she_ have to be here?" Abby asked, sending a glare in Ziva's direction.

McGee sighed. He had already explained the situation to the forensic scientist twice. "Because, Gibbs, Tony and I are better at _investigating_ crime while Ziva is better at…"

"Killing people in cold blood?" Abby interjected.

"I was going to say fighting," Tim quickly corrected, afraid the newest team member might have heard them. Looking at Ziva to determine if it was safe to proceed, McGee continued. "Which is why me, Tony, and Gibbs are going to _investigate_ who made that threat, and Ziva's going to stay here to _fight_ off anybody who even tries to hurt you."

"Unless it's one of her Mossad buddies," Abby remarked coldly. "Should I duck if I hear her talking to someone in Hebrew?"

McGee rolled his eyes. This year had been tough enough losing Kate and Abby's antagonism towards Ziva was only making things worse. Deciding he couldn't change Abby's opinion of Ziva at the moment, McGee decided he better just leave.

"Behave," Tim whispered into Abby's ear before grabbing his NCIS hat from her desk. As he walked past Ziva, she grabbed his arm.

"Good luck," she said, giving Tim the light slap he'd come to realize was a sign of affection.

"You too," he replied, looking back at the glaring Abby. "I know he doesn't like you that much, but we all love her. Please look out for her."

"Of course, Timothy," said Ziva, looking surprised he even had to ask. "I would give my life."

Tim could only nod, his voice taken by his surprise at the conviction Ziva showed to protect someone who could care less about her.

The moment the elevator doors closed, taking McGee back up to the squad room, the tension in the room intensified tenfold.

As Ziva looked at the intense glare being sent her way by the Goth, she instantly grew uncomfortable. 

It wasn't that Abby was the first person to hate her, but to be hated by such an outgoing, friendly, and loving person put Ziva off.

"So," Ziva began awkwardly. "Just act like I'm not here, and this whole thing should be over soon."

Abby glared at the Mossad officer before practically stomping over to her computer and back to the DNA she was running.

On the way, she muttered something that sounded awfully like, "If only acting like it was true would make it true," to Ziva's ears.

Resisting the urge to scream in frustration, Ziva planted herself in a corner when she could see all entrances and exits, keep her eye on Abby, and stay out of the scientist's way. Ziva realized getting a death threat after the year Abby'd had so far was really stressful for the other woman. She didn't want to add to that stress by getting in the way.

Abby had trouble getting her work done with the Mossad officer in her lab at first, but, when Ziva stayed dutifully in her corner for over an hour, she eventually was able to get back to her normal routine. Well, normal for _her_ at least.

So it was that Abby, the woman who sleeps in a coffin, nearly jumped out of her skew when Ziva's phone rang.

"David," Ziva answered curtly. She nodded a few times as she listened to the caller before saying, "Understood. Thanks for the heads up, Tony," and hung up the phone.

"What was that about?" asked Abby curiously.

Ziva smiled lightly. "That was Tony," she said unnecessarily. "He said they know who the guy is, and they are going to go pick him up."

Abby smiled. "Good." The insincere note in Abby's next words were hard to miss. "Well, it's been nice having you here, but I'm afraid we must now part ways, Officer David."

Ziva's jaw clenched. As most of her former partners at Mossad would agree, Ziva was not, nor had she ever been, a particularly patient person. If this woman, who so brazenly insulted her were anyone else, Ziva would have snapped their neck, or, at least, delivered a descriptive, well formed threat.

But this woman was not only a coworker, but was also clearly beloved in the eyes of her new American friends and Gibbs, whom Ziva had an admittedly unique relationship with.

Therefore, Ziva restrained herself. "I'm sorry, Abby," she said tightly. "But I'm afraid you'll have to suffer my company until the team is completely sure he's our man, and that he has no accomplices."

That said, Ziva once more dutifully took her place in the corner. 

She stayed there until late into the night, when Abby finally rose from her desk. The Goth cracked her neck stiffly before going about the business of turning off all of her "babies." The various rooms in the lab went dark as the lights were turned off.

Abby didn't speak to Ziva as she headed for the elevator, impatiently pressing the button, silently praying the next words out of Ziva's mouth wouldn't be…

"I'm to escort you home," Ziva said, as she stepped next to Abby, her eyes refusing to make contact.

Abby couldn't hold back the audible groan that escaped her at Ziva's words. Great, a slumber party with an assassin should be fun.

Ziva bristled at the sound, but said nothing.

Abby noticed the shorter woman stiffen, and decided to lay off a little. "Sorry," she said. "I'm just not prepared for guests right now. My fridge is empty and the place is a mess."

Ziva nodded in acceptance of the flimsy recovery and took it for what it was: an attempt to take back the message sent by Abby's previous groan. "That's alright," Ziva said, allowing the conversation to move on. "I will be spending my time standing guard, so you do not need to entertain me."

Abby gave her a look as the two stepped into the elevator. "Okay," she said, a little unnerved by Ziva's militaristic attitude. "But don't you at least need to eat?"

"Not necessarily," Ziva said, truthfully. "I have been through long stretches on missions without proper food."

Abby stared at Ziva for a moment. "Oh."

Silence reigned from then until the women arrived at Abby's home.

The apartment looked very much like Ziva imagined it would. Black walls and Goth décor immediately drew her attention, but so did the innumerable photos of family and friends that graced every table, bookshelf, and wall.

In each picture frame was the evidence of how big Abby's heart really was. She had friends of varying race, ethnicity, and sexuality, if one could judge by a photograph. There were also group photos from Habitat for Humanity and various other goodwill and charitable organizations, as well as from Abby's bowling team (somehow, the fact that Abby bowled with nuns didn't surprise Ziva), and a year-old photo of the whole NCIS Major Case Team including Abby and Ducky.

Ziva released a small sigh when she looked at the smiling all-American face of Caitlin Todd. It was a face that had appeared multiple times throughout the apartment. The two women had obviously been close, though Ziva had gathered as much from Abby's abrasive attitude.

And for a fleeting moment, Ziva wondered if she would ever find her own face in Abby's living room. It seemed Abby's hear was big enough to fit anyone but her.

"So," the Goth ventured. "What do you think?"

"I like it." Ziva's sincere words threw Abby slightly off. "It's perfect for you."

"Really?" Abby asked curiously. "It's not too extreme or anything?" 

Ziva smiled honestly. "Believe it or not, I have seen worse."

"What do you mean?" Abby could help but continue to be curious. Even Gibbs had turned a little wide-eyed the first time he saw her apartment.

"Well, let's put it this way. Have you ever seen a extreme Jihadist's or Aryan Supremast's house?" Ziva looked at Abby from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge the scientist's reaction to the causally spoken innuendo of Ziva's prior career.

"Ummm." Abby wasn't quite sure how to respond. "No."

"Trust me, _that_ is extreme. Your place is just…what's the phrase…'uniquely you?'" Ziva smiled, but her eyes were a little worried. Already, she was second-guessing her words. Perhaps comparing Abby to a terrorist wasn't such a good idea.

"Well, yeah, I imagine it would be," said Abby awkwardly. "So…" Abby was eager to move the conversation forward. "When you say 'uniquely you' is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"It's a very good thing," Ziva said with a smile.

And, for once, Abby smiled back. 

Just then, Ziva's phone rang. Giving Abby an apologetic look, Ziva answered.

After a few brief words, Ziva hung up and looked at Abby. "That was Gibbs," she informed Abby. "He said you're in the transparent."

"I'm in the clear?" Abby asked excitedly, automatically correcting Ziva in her head.

Ziva nodded. "Yes, Gibbs made the man who threatened you give up everything. According to Tony, Gibbs even made him cry." 

Abby jumped up and down with excitement. "Yay! I'm free!"

The moment the words left Abby's mouth, she knew how they must have sounded to the Israeli; like Abby was elated to no longer have to deal with her. If Ziva's face was anything to go by, that was exactly how Ziva took it.

"Right," said the Mossad liaison uncomfortably. "I guess I'll catch a cab home, since I left my car at work." Ziva turned to leave.

For a brief moment, Abby considered just letting Ziva go unfed, un-thanked, and unwelcome. The moment didn't last long. "Ziva, wait!" called Abby as her colleague was halfway out the door. "Why don't you stay the night?"

Ziva's look of surprise alone made the offer worth it. "Excuse me?"

Abby soldiered on. "Yeah! We can order a pizza and talk about our co-workers!"

"And what about tomorrow?" asked Ziva doubtfully. "I don't have any clothes or anything."

"Even better!" Abby said excitedly. "Just imagine what Tony will think when he sees that you and I spent the night together!"

Ziva contemplated for a moment. It did sound tempting, but she was a little worried about what Gibbs would say.

As if reading her thoughts, Abby reassured her. "I'll handle Gibbs. He can never stay mad with me."

"Well, in that case," said Ziva. "Let the evening begin!"

Abby smiled with excitement. Perhaps having a slumber party with an assassin actually could be fun.

Eh, I didn't like that one very much, but feel free to review at your leisure.

Expect the next one sometime in the next week.

Peace,

Hobbit Killer


	5. Library Pass

Ziva supposed most people wouldn't expect to find one of Mossad's top assasins in the Library of Congress, instead of flying an

a/n Okay, here's a story inspired by the research paper I just had to write. Basically, it's Ziva researching the NCIS team to compile dossiers for Ari. This takes place after "Bête Noir" so McGee isn't part of the team officially yet. This is another one I didn't really like, but I thought it was an idea I needed to get out.

Drabble 5

Title: "Library Pass" or "At First Blush"

Words: 1,715

Warnings: Rambling

Ziva supposed most people wouldn't expect to find one of Mossad's top assassins in the Library of Congress instead of flying an airplane, or jumping out of one, or collecting intel while repelling down a cliff.

It was true that Ziva had done activities similar to those seen in the movies, but that was only part of the job. A big aspect of her work as a Control Officer, was researching marks, contacts, and potential barriers to the success of the officers working under her.

It had been easy enough gathering the researcher pass for the United States' most famous library. A lie here, a forgery there, and she was in.

This was actually only the second time Ziva had been here. Most of the people, places, and organizations she had to investigate were based in Europe, Africa, and Asia. They were also usually known well enough to have a complete intel profile built on them by Mossad spies.

This, however, was a special case. Ziva was now researching a group of people from a little known federal agency who rarely combated terrorism outside of the United States Navy and Marine Corps situations. Mossad had little to do with NCIS.

Truthfully, if it hadn't been for Ari, Ziva wouldn't have been there. It was _he_ who wanted Ziva to gather information on the people he'd encountered during his Hamas mission to recover a bio-weapon the terrorists had been planning using to infect both Americans and Israelis who were training at one of America's naval bases.

The whole thing made Ziva uncomfortable. Ari had sworn he didn't know about he smallpox until he'd been asked to retrieve it, but Ziva wondered if he was just saying that to make her feel better about his whole "double agent" ordeal. After all, Ari was a highly trained doctor. If she were to trust someone with leading a mission based on the use of an infectious disease, it'd be Ari.

Ziva mentally shook herself. She was letting her mind wander, when she should be focusing on the various resources she'd uncovered.

They hadn't all come from the library. Some were from Internet pages, intel analysis, and even inter agency communication that Ziva'd managed to acquire through a friend of hers inside NCIS. Though Jenny worked halfway across the world from NCIS headquarters at the moment, the red head had connections.

Ziva could only get so much information through Jen, however, before the older woman would start asking questions.

So, Ziva had resorted to the same techniques she had found useful writing research papers for college, digging up sources where few thought to look.

At the moment, the assassin was looking down at an old military newspaper from over a decade prior.

The name under the photograph was familiar. Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a man who had come up on more than one occasion when she'd talk with Jen.

Ari had asked Ziva to look into this man and his team after they'd hindered his plan to regain Hamas's wayward bio-weapon. Apparently, the whole encounter had not only intrigued Ari, but it had also given him ideas on how to stop a Hamas plan that was already vaguely in the works.

While Ziva would be researching everyone on the team, Ari had requested that she look particularly closely at both Special Agent Gibbs and Special Agent Caitlin Todd.

Ziva had jokingly asked if Ari had a crush on this "Caitlin." She was surprised when her brother, the big, tough, deep cover asset blushed slightly. Well, Ari was only human after all, and he enjoyed the presence of strong-willed women. That was why the two of them were so close.

Ziva sighed as she read the article before her. Jen had never mentioned the tragedy that had coated the red head's former partner's life. The article reported the cold-blooded murder of Shannon and Kelly Gibbs, wife and daughter to a Marine Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs, who had been serving his country in Iraq during the Gulf war at the time of their deaths. As though that wasn't bad enough, apparently the man had been seriously injured in an explosion soon after and been in a coma for a while.

Most probably, Jenny didn't tell her about his, because the NCIS agent didn't know. From what Ziva had learned about Gibbs in the short amount of time she'd been studying him, he didn't seem like the kind who would…what was the American idiom…sky out his dirty laundry in front of everyone.

Ziva was also impressed by Gibbs's record as a marine. A Purple Heart, Silver Star, and showering of other medals showed a dedication to his cause and country and a loyalty to his men: a loyalty that probably still ran strong with his NCIS team. Ziva had little doubt that Gibbs was a man of extraordinarily strong character, who wouldn't take lightly to anyone who messed with his colleagues.

She hoped Ari would tread lightly with this one.

Having organized her information based on seniority, Ziva moved on to the next special agent, Anthony DiNozzo.

Ari hadn't had any contact with Gibbs's senior field agent, so Ziva could not utilize Ari's first impression as part of her profile.

Information on this "Tony" DiNozzo was fairly easy to find. Apparently, though DiNozzo had spent much of his career as a normal homicide detective, his family was actually one of gross wealth. The rich, Italian blooded family was based in Long Island and apparently owned a fortune 500 company.

The family's notoriety made it easy for Ziva to track the young DiNozzo through society pages until college, when Ziva was able to continue his timeline through sports articles. Apparently, DiNozzo had been quite the sports star at Ohio State University.

Ziva was only mildly impressed. Sports lose their excitement when one is deep undercover with the knowledge that discovery will lead to an imminent and painful demise.

What did impress Ziva, were the various recommendations and impressive arrests Tony had contributed to in his various police postings. The man appeared to be an exemplary police officer despite his privileged life.

Overall, Ziva could see why Gibbs had chosen Tony as his right-hand man. DiNozzo showed the same dedication and loyalty Gibbs had, and was highly qualified to be an investigator after his time as a police detective.

The only thing Ziva couldn't really determine was whySpecial Agent DiNozzo kept changing cities every few years until he'd come to NCIS. She doubted he was fire with his record. Perhaps no post had fit right until NCIS.

While Ziva had, at first, believed DiNozzo to be a non-threat, she was now more cautious in her judgment of him. If Ari encountered him, she would recommend a versatile attitude. This man seemed very unpredictable as an oaf one second, and a master investigator the next.

Ziva's next subject intrigued her. Special Agent Caitlin Todd was an odd choice for an investigative service.

As a former Secret Service Agent attached to the President's personal detail, Agent Todd was, no doubt, skilled to handle high-risk situations. Ziva was sure the woman could outshoot most of her male counterparts, and Ziva respected that.

As far as investigative experience, however, Agent Todd had only been at one crime scene before joining NCIS, when Al Qaeda made an assassination attempt on President Bush, killing a sailor and marine in the process.

As far as Ziva could tell, that case is the only reason Agent Todd even knew Gibbs. Apparently, he must have like what he saw, because she was hired almost immediately after the whole incident was cleaned up.

Other than that information, Ziva hadn't found much. The woman seemed to have had a typical American life with the exception of her jobs.

Ziva wondered what it was that both Gibbs and Ari had found so appealing about Caitlin Todd, because, whatever it was, it didn't show up in any of her resources. Perhaps it was something one should experience in person.

The three agents certainly made for an interesting team, and Ziva found herself wishing that _she_ could meet them herself.

The team was made even more interesting by the additions of Forensic Specialist Abigail Scuito and Medical Examiner Dr. Donald Mallard.

According to Ari, "Abby" Sciuto was not only a scientist, but a Goth as well. He had recounted the information he'd learned about Ms. Sciuto supposedly sleeping in a coffin to her when he got back from his mission.

The information Ziva found only confirmed that. The Mossad Control Officer also found other aspects of Ms. Sciuto's life that vastly contrasted with the morbid image often associated with the Goth lifestyle.

Abigail Sciuto was a member of multiple charities and humanitarian organizations. She was also incredibly bright, if college transcripts were anything to go by.

The medical examiner had also participated in similar pursuits of the humanitarian persuasion. He was also everything Ziva thought of as a Scottish gentleman. Highly educated, Dr. Mallard attended the same medical school as Ari. In fact, after reading a few papers Dr. Mallard had written on the art of Medical examination, Ziva felt that her brother would be a lot like him in a few decades. Ziva chuckled. If so, Ari would be the perfect uncle for any kids she might come to have.

Ziva sighed. Rubbing her eyes, she looked out the window and found the deep red hue of a setting sun. Checking her watch, Ziva jumped to her feet.

She had to get to the airfield soon, or she'd have to wait another week to go back to Tel Aviv.

Taking pictures of all the documents with a micro-camera in her pen, Ziva quickly gathered everything and placed it on a "to be shelved" cart.

Nodding to the librarian, Ziva quickly made her exit, hailing a cab almost immediately after leaving the library.

As she rode to the airfield, Ziva thought about what she'd just read.

Ziva wondered what Ari needed this information for. All she knew was that it was part of his Hamas cover, and that had her worried. She hoped that Hamas had only a passing interest. These people seemed like good, honest people. They didn't deserve a terrorist organization's vendetta.

Okay, as always, read and review. Seriously, the response last time was weak.

Peace,

Hobbit Killer

PS I already have the next one written and typed, so it'll come soon (especially if people review).


	6. Rules of Engagement

Addendum to the Rules Concerning One Ziva David, Mossad Liaison Officer

**A/N Okay, this is my attempt at being cute and/or funny. This is really short and has no actual action, but it makes me smile.**

**Drabble 6**

**Title: "Rules of Engagement" or "The Rules: Extended Edition"**

**Words: 181**

**Warnings: None**

**Addendum to the Rules Concerning One Ziva David, Mossad Liaison Officer**

Rule 1: Officer David is, under no circumstances, to injure, maim, or kill a coworker with NCIS stationary products.

Rule 2: Officer David is allowed no more than four officially recognized weapons on her person. This includes guns, knives, tazers, pepper spray, and (in special cases) steel-toed boots.

Rule 3: No deliberately trying to scare, intimidate, or otherwise emotionally distress Tony, McGee, Lee, or Palmer for Ziva's personal gain.

Rule 4: Never draw your gun in interrogation again. Lawyers tend to frown on it.

Rule 5: The Department of Defense sexual harassment policy does not permit you to physically attack that guy from the legal department when he hits on you.

Rule 6: No torture or injury is to be inflicted on suspects or witnesses without permission.

Rule 7: To promote healthy sleeping habits in the team, Breathe-Right Strips are required for all over-nighters.

Rule 8: You may not, under any circumstances, spy on your coworkers or their dates unless ordered to.

Rule 9: Stop helping Tony glue McGee to stuff!

Rule 10: What's past is past. Let it go.

**Okay, there it is. The reviews were a lot better for last chapter, so thanks a lot.**

**Peace,**

**Hobbit Killer**


	7. Broken News

6 PM

AN Okay people, I'm back with another update. This chapter took a long time because it's the longest chapter in this collection so far, and it is in a different style.

This chapter was written to be as if you're watching a news report on ZNN (CNN). It was originally written as pure dialog, but I added some bolded parts to make it more legible. This is a depressing story, so be warned.

Drabble 7

Title: "Broken News" or "Headlines"

Words: 2278

Warnings: Complete lack of medical knowledge, odd style, death fic

**6 PM: Day 1**

"Good Evening, I'm Rosie Stevens. We start off the night with breaking news from our nation's capital, where a vicious gun battle between federal agents and a suspected meth ring run by members of the United States Navy occurred early this morning.

Reports are still coming in unconfirmed, but we are currently led to believe that there were at least four fatalities among the drug dealers. The possible death of two agents from the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, or NCIS, has also been reported. We'll report more when the information is available."

**8 PM: Day 1**

"Thank you, Michael. That story really made us appreciate our family pets.

Coming back to the shootout that occurred in Washington DC this morning, we have now confirmed that five suspected Navy drug dealers are dead with two more injured.

We also have learned that no federal agents were killed in the stand off. Two were wounded, and one suffered only a minor gunshot wound to the thigh that missed all major arteries. The agent, Timothy McGee, is expected to make a full recovery.

The other agent injured is in surgery at the moment, undergoing her third operation to repair damage to her lungs and small intestine. We go to our source at Bethesda Naval Hospital, Janice Martin for more. Janice?"

**Cut to split screen: left Rosie, right Janice in front of Bethesda**

"Yes, I'm here at Bethesda Naval Hospital where both Special Agent McGee and Special Agent David have been admitted.

A spokesman for the hospital has confirmed that Agent McGee has suffered no ill effects from his wound, and is resting comfortably at the moment.

There has been no new word on Agent David since she went into surgery, and hospital officials are reluctant to comment on her condition further. What they _are_ saying is that the situation is serious."

"What about the two injured drug dealers, Janice?"

"Well, it appears they have only suffered minor injuries. One was shot in the forearm, and the other suffered a broken nose when he resisted being handcuffed. They are currently being heavily guarded before they can be taken to NCIS for interrogation."

"Okay, Janice,. Thanks for the report. We'll check in later. In the meantime, let the agents know that our prayers are with them and their families."

"Will do. Thank you, Rosie."

**Cut back to full screen**

"And, like I said, we'll report on that situation as we get more details. For now, we have economy specialist, David Golith to tell us if sending our kids off to college with a brand new check card is such a good idea. David?"

**6 AM: Day 2**

"Good morning! I'm Sally Andrews, and this is ZNN's Morning Mile brining you up to date on everything you may have missed yesterday and what happened overnight.

Our top story tonight is one we've been covering since yesterday when a gun battle broke out between federal agents and suspected drug smugglers. As of last night, we had confirmed the death of five suspected drug dealers leaving two injured out of a number we now believe to have bee close to a dozen.

During the raid, two agents of the federal agency, NCIS, which stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Service, were injured.

One, a Special Agent Timothy McGee, was wounded in the leg and is currently on the road to recovery.

The other, Ziva David, is still in critical condition at Bethesda Naval Hospital.

We have leaned through sources in NCIS, that Ms. David is actually an Israeli citizen serving as a liaison to NCIS through Israeli intelligence agency, Mossad.

We are told that both her superior in Mossad and the Israeli ambassador to the US have been informed of the situation and are not yet decided as to what their response to this tragedy will be.

At the moment, jurisdiction over the arrested suspected drug dealers remains with NCIS, and their director, Jennifer Shepard, has assured the media and Mossad that Officer David's case has as much priority as it would if any other special agent were hurt.

We'll keep you informed on this situation as it develops.

Now we go to the Middle East Desk for an update on Iraq."

**6 PM: Day 2**

"Good Evening, I'm Rosie Stevens. Our first story we've been covering for you since yesterday, when members of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service exchanged gunfire with almost a dozen suspected drug dealers.

Five suspects were killed and two injured. The suspects were apprehended and are now being held pending arraignment.

Two NCIS agents were also injured. One, Special Agent Timothy McGee, is already home with a minor leg wound. The other, Officer Ziva David, a liaison officer between NCIS and Israeli intelligence agency, Mossad, suffered much more severe injuries and has, according to our source at Bethesda Naval Hospital, just been taken back into surgery in a desperate attempt to save her life.

Our source is with us now. Janice, what's the atmosphere like there at Bethesda?"

**Cut to split screen: left Rosie, right Janice in front of Bethesda**

"Good evening, Rosie. I'm afraid the atmosphere has turned dark when, a little over an hour ago, Officer David's vital signs started to fail after an infection caused by her damaged small intestine inflamed the sutured area of her lungs, contributing to a collapse."

"What are Officer David's chances, Janice?"

"I'm afraid they're not very good, Rosie. The last I heard from the doctors, they were giving her a 10 chance, and her coworkers, who are waiting diligently for news on their colleague, have been told to prepare for the worst."

"Wow. I can't imagine what that must be like for them. Has anyone from Mossad shown up?"

"Umm, yes. The Mossad representative from the Israeli Embassy came by earlier to find out her condition. He then left to inform the ambassador and his superior, Director David.

Director David is also Officer David's father, so I'm sure he'll be on a plane here soon to see his daughter."

"Okay, thank you for that report, Janice."

"You're welcome, Rosie."

**Cut back to full screen**

"And, once again, our prayers are with Officer David, her family, and her colleagues at NCIS in this difficult time.

As we reported earlier, Mossad has ceded jurisdiction in this case to NCIS, their trust in the American agency that had been a home to one of their own since 2005.

Now, that was an unusual agreement, and our journalists are looking into it. In the meantime, however, we'll check on Wall Street with Ox Baring. Ox?"

**6 AM**

"Good morning! I'm Sally Andrews for ZNN's Morning Mile, bringing you up to date on everything you might have missed yesterday and on what happened last night.

We begin our morning on a sad note. Last night, we received word from Bethesda Naval Hospital, that Officer Ziva David, a liaison between Israel intelligence agency Mossad and the American federal agency, NCIS or Naval Criminal Investigative Service, died in surgery as doctors desperately tried to save her life.

Officer David was wounded in a shoot out between the NCIS Major Case Team, lead by highly decorated former Marine, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, and almost a dozen suspected meth dealers.

One other agent was injured as well as two suspects. Five suspects were killed.

For more, we go to Janice Martin, who has been covering this even from Bethesda. Janice?"

**Cut to split screen: left, Sally, right, Janice**

"Thanks, Sally. It's a day of mourning here at Bethesda, as Officer David's coworkers from NCIS, all of whom have been standing in vigil since Officer David was taken back into surgery last evening, were informed of the death of a friend and colleague late last night.

The team was reluctant to speak to reporters so shortly after their friend's death, but we did manage to get a short interview with her immediate superior at NCIS, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

**Cut to Gibbs at Bethesda 2:30 AM**

"How do I feel? How would you feel if someone who you worked with, sometimes for weeks straight without going home, died because of some worthless meth dealers? I mean, we're not just coworkers or even just friends. My team is my family, and I would do anything for one of my people. Losing Ziva has torn a hole in all of us."

**Cut back to split screen at 6 AM**

"That was Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs speaking on the death of Officer David. Obviously, this is a very traumatic time for him and his team."

"I'm sure it is. Thank you, Janice."

"You're welcome, Sally."

"We now go to our senior Middle East correspondent, who has dug up more details on just _why _Officer David was in NCIS. Good morning, Abner."

**Zoom out to show a man sitting at the desk with Sally**

"Good morning, Sally."

"What have you been able to learn about this peculiar relationship between NCIS and the Israeli intelligence agency, Mossad?"

"Well, it seems that Officer David joined NCIS shortly after a former special agent, Caitlin Todd, was shot and killed by a terrorist.

Our sources believe Mossad somehow was involved in the investigation. We are not sure yet as to the nature of Officer David's involvement in that investigation.

I have also heard rumor that Officer David was, herself, subject to both an internal NCIS investigation and an investigation by the FBI from a source within NCIS.

Further investigation will show if these allegations have any truth to them. I have already made inquiries to the office of Director Jenny Shepard, but they have yet to comment.

It should be noted that Jenny Shepard is a long time friend of Officer David, and may be reluctant to offer a statement.

I'll report more at the end of the hour.."

**The television screen nearly exploded as Gibbs threw the block of wood he'd been using to test the sharpness of one of his tools into the set.**

He couldn't believe it. Ziva wasn't even in the grave yet, and they were already trying to smear her name.

Those bastards!

Ziva is…was a hero! She died for a country that wasn't even hers. She had saved so many lives, put so many evil, dangerous people in prison, and the press decided to turn against her.

How could they? It wasn't fair.

Gibbs slowly turned to his boat. He picked up his sand paper and just stared at it. The rough paper was so familiar in his hand. So many had grasped paper similar to this and contributed to this most recent boat. But not Ziva.

Gibbs regretted that the only times Ziva had been in his basement were when she killed her brother and when she was hiding from the FBI, who had assumed her guilt without question or caution.

There was so much regret now, just as there had been with Kate, perhaps even more. Gibbs had had too much regret in his life, and too much bull shit, and he wondered if it was really worth it anymore.

Gibbs had never stopped asking himself if it was all worth it, even after he returned from Mexico. He still ached from the pains of a life and a job that asked so much of him and the people he loved.

He knew the rest of his team were equally devastated by Ziva's death.

Abby was finally asleep upstairs after Gibbs had spent most of the night holding her as she sobbed hysterically.

Tony was most likely still at NCIS. The young man had settled himself down on the floor of Autopsy the moment they'd returned from the hospital with Ziva's body.

Gibbs's senior field agent had been immovable from his position with his head resting on the door of the Autopsy drawer next to the one that would hold the body of is partner until she could be released for burial.

His coworkers had tried to pull him away, but their offers of a place to stay or a night on the town fell on deaf ears.

Finally, Tony had snapped at Ducky when the kindly Scotsman had tried to tell the special agent an encouraging story. Gibbs had immediately head slapped him, and Tony looked contrite soon after. But, by then, every one had decided the best course of action was to leave Tony DiNozzo be.

It was apparent that, after losing his second partner, the man needed some time alone.

Gibbs didn't know what McGee's reaction was. Despite the head agent's protests, Ducky had insisted on telling Tim himself.

Gibbs had eventually relented when it occurred o him that this might be Ducky's way of assuaging his guilt over not being able to help Ziva. Gibbs couldn't imagine how hard it would be for a doctor to have to watch someone he loved deteriorate and die.

At least Ducky knew the medical profession could have done nothing to save Kate. To have them try and fail with Ziva…it was too tragic.

Gibbs also didn't know how Jenny was handling everything. Between the interference with the media, consulting Tel Aviv, and trying to figure out who in NCIS was leaking information to ZNN, the director was still sequestered in either her office or MTAC and not yet able to mourn her friend.

Gibbs sighed. Tomorrow he was going to have to pay ZNN a visit. As much as he hated dealing with the media, he knew he had to do something before they smeared Ziva's name.

He had failed the young woman too many times while she was alive. He wouldn't fail her now.

**Okay, thanks for reading! Sorry if I made anyone depressed. The next story is already typed and will be up after I give people a little time to read this one and I proof read it, so keep a look out.**

**As always, please read and review!**

**Peace, **

**Hobbit Killer**


	8. Dressed to Kill

**AN Okay, this one is totally not depressing…I think. Anywho, this is just a cute little short partly inspired by DrawMeASheep's "Pseudobattle."**

**Drabble 8  
Title: "Dressed to Kill" or "Strange Union"  
Words: 257  
Warnings: Tiva sex implied. Questionable historical garment accuracy.**

"I'm going to kill you slowly, DiNozzo," Ziva huffed angrily as the middle-aged woman behind her gave the strings to the Civil War era replica dress a final sharp tug before tying them.

"Hey, you offered to help me reunite with my dad!" Tony protested, pulling at the starch collar of his union soldier uniform.

Ziva scoffed. "That was before I knew I was going to have to suffocate myself under four layers of starched wool, Tony. I grew up practically in the desert, and I can assure you that I am possibly more hot now than I have ever been!"

Tony smiled. "Reeaally?" he asked in his drawn out and sly manner. "I'm pretty sure I've seen that flush on your face before, Ziva. And the air conditioner was even on then."

Ziva glared at Tony. "Would you like to see what color my face is when I'm about to severely maim someone, Tony?"

Tony gulped loudly. "No thanks."

"Good," Ziva said. "Because, I have found the one advantage to having this much clothing on."

"Oh?" asked Tony. "And what is that?"

Ziva leaned into the young man's ear. "It is much easer to conceal weapons in this than in my usual attire."

Tony chuckled nervously. "Uh, Ziva, you do know that: A. The women aren't supposed to participate in the battle and B. The killing is fake. Right?...Ziva?"

Ziva just smirked, chuckling as she walked away, leaving Tony standing amidst the various gowns for rent and suddenly wishing Kevlar had been around in the 1800s.

**Okay, thanks for reading! The next one is still being written, but I doubt it'll take longer than a week.**

**Read and Review!**

**Peace,  
Hobbit Killer**


	9. Butting In

**a/n Okay, I know I said this one would take less than a week, and that was my downfall. I ran into a lot of crap right after I posted the last drabble and just finished this fic. Good news is, the next one is already finished, so I can honestly tell you to expect that one soon, especially because, in a week, the semester will be over.**

**This drabble is me trying to answer some of the questions about Ziva's past: namely what she did in college. We know she went to college in Israel, but that's it. I would recommend refreshing one's self on the second season episode, "Red Cell," if you want to understand my "rule 53."**

**Drabble: 9  
Title: "Butting in" or "Can You Imagine Ziva With Pink Hair?"  
Words: 1339  
Warnings: Hoping Ziva's Israeli University is like my Pennsylvanian one. Mentions of "Alias" and second season episode.**

"Cigarette butts." Gibbs crouched in front of a small pile, his feet squishing in the saturated grass. "Bag 'em."

"Boss, this is a college campus, there'll be a million of these anywhere," McGee said with disbelief.

Gibbs got up. "Then you'd better get busy."

With a grumble of dissatisfaction, McGee bent, tweezers in hand.

Seeing his agent's compliance, Gibbs moved on to take the victim's roommate's statement.

Tony stood smirking over McGee as the younger agent grimaced as he gingerly picked up one of the seemingly endless supply of cigarette butts. "I take it you weren't a smoker in college, 'eh, McGee?"

McGee rolled his eyes. "Yes, Tony. I didn't smoke in college. I also never drank, partied, or experimented with illegal drugs. Now, could you please give me an evidence bag?"

Tony smirked, shaking the evidence bag in front of McGee's face until Tim angrily snatched it from him.

Tony simply chuckled before turning to Ziva who had been stoically ignoring the two men while she took photos of the crime scene. "Sooo, Zee-Vah, we all know what Probie was like in college: boring. What was the young the young future Mossad Officer David like?"

"What do you want to know, Tony?" asked Ziva, not looking up from her work.

Tony thought for a second. He didn't want to jump right into the 'were you a party animal' part of the conversation too quickly. This was his golden opportunity to learn more about his often-mysterious colleague. He didn't want to blow it by offending her.

"Well," he said. "What was your major? I'm gonna guess there wasn't a Mossad U where all they taught you was how to become a super agent."

"Actually, many new recruits would refer to our intensive training program as 'Mossad University.' But you're right. There's no officially recognized 'how to be a spy' class that has any real merit at my former university."

"So, what did you study?" asked McGee curiously, unable to stay out of the conversation.

Ziva looked up at the sky as though trying to recall her major. "I believe I majored in French. I also studied in Spanish, Turkish, German, Greek, Russian, Italian, English, Mandarin Chinese, Japanese, and Farsi."

McGee and Tony just stood there for a moment with their mouths hanging open. To say they were impressed would have been an understatement. Tony was especially flabbergasted. He'd had enough trouble with his PE major, but to study that many languages…that was insane.

"That's insane." The senior field agent voiced his thoughts.

Ziva just looked at him blankly. "Not really," she said matter-of-factly. "I already spoke several of those languages close to fluidly."

"Fluently," corrected McGee out of habit. "Hey," he said suddenly. "What about Arabic? Didn't you study that?"

"No," said Ziva simply. "I could already speak Arabic fluently by then. It would have been a waste of time."

"It would have been an easy A though," said Tony having mentally recovered from the idea of trying to study eleven languages.

"A what?" asked Ziva, as she knelt to take pictures of some tire tracks.

"Easy A? You know a class that you could get the highest grade in easily," informed Tony. "Are you sure you studied English?"

"Yes, Tony," Ziva replied, rolling her eyes. "I'm sure I studied English, and my father, who was paying for my education, didn't believe in 'easy As.'"

Tony winced at the ice in Ziva's tone. He found it funny that she always criticized his relationship with his father, when her own relationship with _her_ father was so horrible. Still, he knew it was a touchy subject and attempted a graceful redirect.

"Of course," Tony said. "So…did you…uh…take any other classes? You know, besides language?"

Ziva shrugged. "Just required subjects. You know, chemistry a couple levels of calculus, several semesters of literature, psychology. Things like that."

"Of course," said McGee as he bagged another cigarette. From what he could tell so far, he was about 3 finished. "I really liked the variety those course added to my schedule."

Tony looked at him and rolled his eyes. "Only you would enjoy unnecessary classes, McGee."

"Actually, said Ziva. "I found many of those classes quite helpful."

"How?" Tony looked at her with disbelief.

"Well, to start, a psychology course is an excellent base to have when one is being trained in both the arts of profiling and interrogation." Ziva's voice was still matter-of-fact. "And the chemistry course was very useful for my training with chemical explosives, corrosives, weapons, and drugs."

Again, Ziva was graced with blank stares.

"Wait a second." Tony spoke up. "When did you join Mossad? I mean, how did you get promoted so quickly when you could only have been there a few years after college?"

"What makes you think I didn't join Mossad until after college?" asked Ziva, looking at her partner sidelong. "I began regular field training in high school and finished while I was in the army. I went through advanced training during my first semester at University and was running missions by the second." Ziva suddenly smirked. "Much like your Sydney Bristo, yes?"

Tony stared at her blankly for a moment. "Did you just make a reference to _Alias_?"

Ziva smile slyly. "Jennifer Garner in a bright pink wig getting her teeth pulled out, yes?"

"Well, yeah," said Tony. "But how do you, who doesn't even own a television, know that?"

"I downloaded it off the internet." Ziva shrugged it off.

"Why?" asked McGee, his inability to believe Ziva would watch such an unrealistic spy show coloring his voice.

"I don't know." She spoke honestly. "Something about it just appealed to me. I mean, there's a whole family of spies, and they're funny to watch because they're so _bad_ at being spies. If I were captured or compromised that often, I would have been terminated."

"Right," drawled Tony in response. "Any way, let's get back to you in college. I guess running all those missions didn't really give you the time to be the party girl you could have been, right?"

"Oh, you couldn't be more wrong, Tony!" Ziva said, sly laughter in her voice.

McGee stared at her. "You were a party girl? How did you manage that, good grades, and Mossad?"

Ziva shrugged. "It wasn't that hard."

Tim shook his head. "I can't believe it."

"I can," said Tony, excitement creeping into his voice. "Come on, Zee-Vah, give us a David tale of debauchery."

Ziva smirked. "Well…" she said. "I do remember the one time when me and my roommate got really drunk and…"

"DINOZZO, DAVID!" Gibbs's angry yell rang in the three younger agents' ears. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

"Uhhh…" Tony struggled to find an answer. "Sketching and shooting?"

Gibbs didn't even flinch at the flimsy alibi, instead walking directly up to Tony and slapping his head with more than the usual dose of aggression.

"Ow!" cried Tony, rubbing the back of his head and trying not to cringe as he felt the developing bald spot. "What was that for?"

"Breaking rule 53, DiNozzo!"

"Rule 53?" asked Ziva with clear confusion.

Tony, however, looked chagrinned. "Right," he said sheepishly. "The next person who mentions college is fired." Suddenly realizing what he said, Tony's eyes widened. "Boss," the senior agent said timidly. "You're not gonna _fire_ me, are you?"

Gibbs only stared at Tony before turning without a word and heading to the sedan.

As McGee went to pass, Tony grabbed his arm. "McGee, he's not going to fire me, right?"

Tim just looked at Tony and shrugged before going to put the equipment in the back of the truck.

As Tony stood staring, Ziva walked up beside him.

"Someday, you're going to have to explain what that was all about, Tony," she said, looking sidelong at her partner.

After she spoke, Tony's mouth quirked in a half-smile. "Right after you tell me about your drunken revelries with your college roommate."

Ziva smirked and offered a handshake. "It's a deal."

**End**

**Okay, as always, feel free to review. I'm not sure how I feel about this one, so give me your input.**

**Peace,  
Hobbit Killer**


	10. Brothers and Sisters

"Please, I'm sorry, Ziva

a/n Yay! Another drabble has arrived to get us all pumped for Ziva's episode, "Recoil" tomorrow. This story features Aaron Peled, the OC fiancé I mentioned in my first drabble. He'll probably make appearances here and there. That's right, I now have my own Recurring Original Character! Too bad I've already doomed him to a gruesome death. This fic, however, is not about that.

**Drabble 10  
Title: "Brothers and Sisters" or "When Dating a David, Use Protection"  
Words: 1356  
Warnings: Mention of partner and child abuse, nothing graphic. Original Characters.**

"Please, I'm sorry, Ziva! I promise that I'll never do it again!" The young man cowered under the older Israeli's deathly glare.

"Oh, I know you won't do it again, Abraham Peled, because you are never going to look at my little sister again!" Ziva menaced the seventeen-year-old, hauling him up by his collar. "Got it?"

The petrified teenager nodded his head furiously as the woman, who stood a good three inches shorter than him, pulled him onto his toes. "I promise! Please, Officer David!" The boy begged pathetically.

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him for a moment before letting go, causing Abraham to lose his balance. The young Mossad trainee's arms fruitlessly pinwheeled as he tried to regain his footing, but he ended up on the floor anyway.

Before the young man could attempt to regain his feet, he superior officer walked firmly up to him and delivered a swift kick to his most sensitive area.

As the young man moaned in pain and curled into a protective ball, Ziva crouched down in front of him. "Be glad," she said, "that you didn't have to deal with Officer Haswari or Deputy Director David, Abraham. You should know that, if I weren't in love with your brother, you would already be released from your contract with Mossad and most likely picking that piece of anatomy you are so protectively holding right now off the floor."

Ziva stood, watching the teenager squirm a bit longer before abruptly about-facing, leaving the pathetic man on the floor of his barrack.

* * *

Aaron rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he heard an insistent pounding on his apartment door. He had just flown fifteen hours to get home from a mission and had just managed to get some rest after hours of reports, weapons inventory, and debriefing.

Looking through the peephole, Aaron's silent prayers that it was no one and he could ignore him or her were crushed at the sight of his very irate girlfriend. Aaron heaved a great sigh. It appeared he wouldn't be getting much sleep today.

"Do you know what your brother did?" Ziva's accusatory tone entered the apartment before she did.

Aaron rolled his eyes. "It's good to see you too, my love. The mission went fine, thank you," he said sarcastically, shutting the door behind his lover.

"Oh, I already know how your mission went, Aaron. Your control officer kept me informed, which is why I knew you were home," Ziva muttered distractedly as she headed right for Aaron's liquor cabinet. "It's _you_ who needs to be caught up!" Ziva immediately grabbed an on-the-rocks glass and poured herself a glass of the first hard liquor within reach. She then made herself at home on his couch, her feet claiming his only ottoman for herself.

"What did my little brother do _this_ time?" asked Aaron with resignation as he ignored the liquor and instead went to the coffee machine sitting on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.

This was not the first time Aaron had heard this tirade.

By now, Aaron was thoroughly convinced that allowing his younger brother to date the youngest David despite a two-year age difference was a bad idea. While Aaron loved Ziva, Ziva was, perhaps, one of the most over protective beings on the planet. Add to that Talia David also being the favorite daughter of Deputy Director David, his boss and, hopefully, future father-in-law, and the relationship put Aaron in significant peril.

It seemed he was always hearing about his scoundrel of a brother from Ziva, who acted like her sister was made of glass. One time, Ziva had ranted a whole week because Abraham had cancelled a date to go camping with some of his Mossad classmates.

Aaron smiled ruefully at the memory. One look at Ziva's stern and serious glare, however, wiped it off his face.

"I'm not overreacting this time, Aaron," she said angrily. She'd always had a knack for reading his thoughts.

"Okay," Aaron's voice turned serious. "What happened?"

"Aaron," Ziva said, looking him straight in the eye and addressing him as she always did when talking of something serious. "He hit Tali."

Aaron's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "He what?" The recently returned Mossad officer couldn't believe it. "That can't be, Abraham couldn't hurt anyone, especially not Tali!"

"He's been training at Mossad for over a year, Aaron. It changes people," Ziva reminded, her eyes darkening at the thought.

"I know that," said Aaron agitatedly. "But still, Tali's only fifteen! I can't believe he'd strike a fifteen-year-old!" Aaron was well on his way to complete fury.

Knowing that he'd start pacing if he didn't, Aaron firmly planted himself on the couch next to Ziva, coffee forgotten.

"Well, he did." Ziva's voice was cold. "And is therefore no longer allowed to go near my sister."

Aaron let out an angry sigh, agitatedly running his hands through his hair. There was significantly less after he'd been forced to adopt a military haircut for is mission. "That little idiot," he murmured to the carpet. Looking a Ziva, he tried a little levity. "I'm surprised you didn't kill him."

Ziva cracked a small smile. "Well…" her voice held no apology. "I did rough him up a little. If I had _really_ been aiming to punish him, I would have stuck him alone in a room with Deputy Director David."

Aaron nodded, putting his arm around his girlfriend. His mind was still furiously whirling at the thought of his little brother being so callous, but he maintained the conversation for Ziva's sake. She already had to deal with her father's rages at home. She didn't need her lover to act the same way. "So," Aaron said casually. "What inspired this act of mercy, sparing my brother the wrath of David Senior?"

Ziva huffed. "Well," she said with artificial affronted-ness. "I _would have_, but unfortunately I have found myself in the unenviable position of being hopelessly in love with the parasite's older brother, whose undocumented yet unmatched powers as a sex god keep me trapped to his will."

Aaron raised an eyebrow at Ziva who was busy looking completely serious. Silence reigned for all of twelve seconds before the two burst out in laughter.

* * *

Later that night, as the two lay side by side in Aaron's bed, he turned to her. "So…" he said, panting. "Glad to have your sex god back?"

Ziva smirked. "Very," she said happily, snuggling up closer to her lover. She rubbed her face against his stubble before heaving a sigh. "You need to talk to your brother," she said resolutely, squashing the mood.

It was Aaron's turn to sigh. "I know," he said with resignation. "I think the pressure of Komemiute training is getting to him. I mean, we pound this training into them over and over. We teach them that they are killers and that sentimentality is weakness. It's no surprise they turn into different people: the kind who strike fifteen-year-old girls for no good reason."

"Or whip their children for failing at achieving perfection," muttered Ziva darkly into her lover's chest.

Aaron knew not to comment or react to Ziva's words. While Tali was practically worshipped by their father, Ziva and Ari had had rough childhoods.

When Aaron had first learned this, he and Ziva were in school together and Ziva had come in with a fat lib and stiffness in her gait. Usually, parents worried if their kids come home from school looking like that, they don't send them there that way. That was also when Aaron learned, courtesy of his own fat lip, that, when it came to Ziva's father, she could not be pushed to share any more than she wanted.

So instead, Aaron just pulled her tighter, nuzzling his face into her curly hair and wishing so hard that he will some day be able to make her life better.

Ziva allowed his warmth to blanket her and his heartbeat calm her. All she wanted was to stay in this moment forever.

**There you go! Tell me what you think of Aaron. I like the idea of Ziva having a guy who is capable of mellowing her out.**

**Reviews are always welcome!**

**Peace,  
Hobbit Killer**


	11. Death Sentence

**a/n Okay, I wrote this one today after I spent the better part of last night at the forums on the NCIS wiki. If you've read any spoilers about the end of the season, you should appreciate the plot of this little drabble.**

**Drabble 11  
Title: "Death Sentence" or "The Consequences of Reading Spoilers"  
Words: 937  
Warnings: More fluff than I've ever written in my life. Tiva ahead. Allusion to Season 5 spoilers**

"Who is it?"

McGee looked up startled as Abby ran up to his desk urgently, eyes wide with anticipation. "What?" he asked confused.

For a response, Abby slammed a magazine down on his desk entitled, _The Essential Crime Novel Guide_. "I read the article, McGee!"

Tim groaned. He knew that interview was a bad idea. "Abby…" he tried to placate her. "It's just a book…"

"Which one of us are you going to kill off?" Abby interjected angrily.

It was at that time that Tony and Ziva walked in.

"McGee's going to kill someone?" asked Tony interestedly as he threw his bag behind his desk. "Who and why, McGoogle?"

"Not me," said Ziva resolutely as she sat down at her desk. "He already knows how that will end."

McGee sighed. "I'm not really going to kill one of you guys," he said with exasperation.

"Well of course you're not going to kill one of us here," said Abby rolling her eyes. "You couldn't even if you wanted to." She turned to Tony and Ziva and presented them with the article. "He's killing off one of our characters at the end of his next book."

"What?" asked Tony with surprise as he jumped up to grab the magazine from Abby. He began reading out loud. "Thom E. Gemcity fans will be devastated to learn that one of their beloved characters is on the way out. Gemcity has confirmed to us exclusively that one of the main NCIS characters, meaning Tommy, Lisa, Amy, Goose, Director Jane Herder, or LJ Tibbs will be murdered in the dramatic climax of his new novel, set to hit bookstands this summer."

Tony and Ziva both turned to stare at Tim who suddenly wished very much that he were invisible.

"You're going to kill one of us, Timothy?" asked Ziva in shock. "But why?"

McGee looked uncomfortable as he answered. "Well, my publisher thought I needed something really big to close out my book since I shied away from killing McGreggor in the last one. So, we decided I'd kill someone off in the book, and tell the fans that someone was going to die to create buzz. We're already backordered beyond expectations and that articles only been out a couple of days."

"So who is it, Mr. Gemcity?" Tony asked, walking directly in front of McGee's desk.

Tim sighed again. "I can't tell you guys," he said. "It would be a violation of my contract."

Ziva scoffed. "Don't worry, Tony. We'll get it out of him," she said, placing a hand on her partner's shoulder. "He won't last long."

From that moment on, McGee's life at NCIS was a living hell. Everyday Tony, Ziva, and Abby would pester him repeatedly with questions about who died and their theories of how it was done.

"I bet Tommy dies," said Abby once as the non-author team members gathered to discuss their teammate's newest book. "One of his past flings is gonna kill him."

"No, no," said Ducky who had been unable to stay out of the conjecturing. "Tommy was almost killed in the last book when he got small pox and again when the arms dealer blew up his car. I think the poor boy will be left alone."

"Thanks, Ducky," said Tony. "But if McGee's not killing Tommy, who do you think he'll kill."

"My money's on Officer Lisa," said Ducky after careful thought. "She's been working at NCIS for a long time as just a liaison. Her stay either needs to become permanent, or she's going to have to go."

"What?" said Ziva affronted. "You're joking. No one can kill Lisa. I agree with Abby. Tommy is on his way out. You can not break that many hearts and expect someone not to stab you in your own, especially if one of those hearts is Lisa."

Everything suddenly got quiet. "Tommy didn't break Lisa's heart. They got married, remember," said Abby quietly, looking uncomfortable between Tony and Ziva.

Ziva's eyes widened slightly as she realized what she'd revealed. "I knew that," Ziva snapped. Her eyes quickly found the ground.

Tony chuckled nervously. "Yeah, remember how we talked about how ridiculous that was. I mean, he completely ignored Lisa's obligation to Mossad."

Ziva nodded, suddenly feeling constricted. "Right, of course," she forced. "And someone like Tommy wouldn't be able to make the commitment."

Suddenly needing air, Ziva quickly surveyed the room. "I think I'm going to head outside for a bit. All of this wondering about which one of us Tim has decided to kill is giving me a headache."

Ziva was already in the elevator before anyone moved.

"Wow," said Abby as she stared at the elevator. "Did what I think just happened just happen?"

Tony didn't respond. Instead he headed for the stairs.

Ziva was standing just outside the main entrance to NCIS the now over-read copy of _The Essential Crime Novel Guide_ held loosely in hand.

As Tony approached, he noticed it was turned to the page titled, "Tommy and Lisa: What's Next For Crime Writing's Hottest Couple?"

"You know," said Tony, sidling up next to Ziva. "McGee's smarter than he looks."

Ziva gave him a look. "How is that?" she asked, her voice a monotone.

"I think he might be able to see more to Tommy and Lisa than we do. I mean, sure, they have their problems, but, if it came to it…" Tony lifted Ziva's chin to look into his eyes, "…they'd do anything for each other, even if that meant finding some way to make a relationship work."

Ziva smiled slightly. "Really?" she asked.

"Wanna find out?"

**I have to admit, I totally didn't expect to be writing Tiva when I started this drabble, but I think I like how it turned out. Wow, with this one and the last one I'm on some kind of romance kick.**

**This story was dedicated to all those agonizing like I am right now. Feel Free to review!**

**Peace,  
Hobbit Killer**


	12. My Training

**A/N I would like to start out by thanking my many reviewers for taking me to 70 reviews. That is just awesome, and, hopefully, it means I'm on my way to 100! I know, I have to write a lot more drabbles to get there, but I'm closing in. So, thanks and keep it up.**

**This drabble is a response to "Recoil." (I know, another one) I actually really liked the episode, (though I understand why others didn't) and it gave me a million ideas for fics. This is sort of my take on why Ziva was so unseated by her, in her opinion, failure when handling the Hoffman situation. It is also setting more background for my version of Ziva's early life.**

**Drabble 12  
Title: "My Training" or "Don't Forget to Remember"  
Words: 1395  
Warning: Spoilers for "Recoil," Child Abuse**

Ziva stared into the glass in front of her. After experimenting with different mixed drinks for a large part of the evening, Ziva had lost track of what exactly she was drinking. She couldn't even bring her brain to process the color of the strong liquor.

She couldn't believe she'd almost been killed so easily. The man's training as a marine was minute compared to hers. He had to drug women to kill them, but he'd somehow managed to nearly take out the daughter of Mossad's Deputy Director David, who'd been trained her entire life as a Mossad machine.

Unwillingly, Ziva thought back to that time in her life when her father was molding her into the perfect assassin.

-- -- -- -- --

Thirteen-year-old Ziva cringed as her father punched her stomach. Officer David had stopped holding back on his daughter long ago, right after Ziva learned not to cry out.

Ziva choked slightly as air was forced out of her lungs by another blow, and she almost missed her father's words.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Ziva? Don't let your opponent take away your options. If you give them that, you give them control. If you give them control, you have given them your life and the fate of the mission." David accentuated the words with one last gut shot that sent Ziva to her knees on the padded floor of the training room her father had commissioned for the David home.

David looked down his nose at his pained daughter. "Your continued failure disappoints me, Ziva. It is obvious that you require training both before and after school."

Struggling to her feet, Ziva stood at attention for Officer David. "Yes, Father," she said with as much strength as she could through the burrowing pain.

David eyed his daughter for a moment as she stood with her back straight for him, searching for any weakness in her stance. Seeing none, David nodded. "Good attitude, Ziva." The complement was said without care or praise. "We will meet here tomorrow at 0430, understand?"

Ziva nodded. "Yes, Sir!" she barked military style.

Her father actually cracked a small grin at her obedience before turning and leaving without another word.

The moment the door closed behind her father, Ziva shakily leaned against the wall. Clutching her stomach, Ziva slowly slid to the padded floor, her attempt at slow measured breaths failing to calm her shivering.

Knowing that her father would notice she was still in the room, Ziva braced her hands on the wall behind her, trying to create leverage to regain her feet. The moment her abdominal muscles stretched, however, Ziva was sent back down with a pained whimper.

"Ziva?"

The thirteen-year-old panicked for a moment, immediately trying to hide any sign of weakness. When she looked up, however, Ziva was met with the concerned gaze of her older brother rather than the wrathful one of her father.

"Ari," she sighed with relief. "You sounded just like Father."

Ari nodded in understanding before approaching his younger sister. "Don't worry," he said as he grabbed her upper arm to haul her up. "He got a call from the Deputy Director. I doubt he'll be back until after dinner."

Ziva sighed in relief as her brother gently maneuvered her arm around her shoulders and helped her limp out of the training room.

"Come on," he said gently. "I'll take you up to your room and tell Chava you're sick."

Ziva said nothing, instead allowing her brother to brace her as they climbed the stairs together. The two were just about to disappear into Ziva's room when Chava David spotted them.

"Ari, Ziva?" she called to her daughter and stepson. "What's going on?"

Ziva cringed slightly. She'd been hoping to avoid this. Every time her mother caught her being visually injured after a training session, the David home became a battlefield for Mr. and Mrs. David.

"It's nothing, Mom," she lied. "I'm just sore after Krav Maga training."

"Really?" asked Chava, walking up to the siblings. Before Ziva could prepare herself, her mother gently pressed against Ziva's abdomen.

The unexpected contact caused pain to run through Ziva like a jolt of electricity. The girl couldn't prevent a cry from escaping.

"STOP IT!" yelled Ari angrily, slapping Chava's hand away from his sister.

"I wouldn't have had to do that if you two had just told me what was going on!" Chava insisted sternly, glaring at Ari.

The two looked as though they were soon to be caught in a battle of wills when Ziva spoke up.

"I didn't want you and Father to get into another fight," Ziva said quietly. Her voice sounded almost pathetic as it trembled. It seemed her mother's light touch was perfectly placed to cause the maximum amount of pain. Knowing she wouldn't be able to stand much longer and not wanting to show any more embarrassing weakness to her mother, Ziva looked pleadingly up at her brother. "Can I go lay down now?"

Her words immediately softened the eyes of both family members.

"Of course, Ziva," her brother said, pushing the door to their left open and guiding her in. After placing her on the bed, he gently removed her shoes before pulling up the covers.

"Do you want anything, sweetheart?" he mother asked from the doorway where she looked at her daughter with pained eyes.

Ziva shook her head. "No thanks, Mom. I would rather just rest." She spoke softly, rubbing her face into her pillow and letting the cool fabric comfort her flushed cheeks.

Noticing the sweat on Ziva's face, Ari gently felt her forehead. Feeling unnatural heat, Ari turned to his stepmother. "Chava," he said, all traces of his early aggression towards her gone. "Could you get me a cool cloth? Ziva's a little warm."

Concern flashed in Chava's eyes, and she quickly went to feel her daughter's forehead. "Oh, Ziva," Chava said sadly, feeling the slight fever.

"I'm fine, Mom, Ari," Ziva insisted stubbornly. Looking at her mother earnestly, Ziva asked, "Please, Mom, don't yell at Father."

"And why shouldn't I?" asked Chava angrily, already preparing her husband's lecture about the difference between children and recruits in her head.

"It makes Tali cry."

Ziva's words stopped Chava short. They all knew that the conflicts within the family scared and distressed the four-year-old, littlest David. The tiny treasure was loved, spoiled, and adored by everyone, and was, perhaps, the only reason they hadn't all torn each other to shreds yet.

"Okay, Ziva." Chava acquiesced. "If that's what you want."

Ziva stuck her chin out proudly. "It is," the thirteen-year-old said with as much authority as she could muster.

Chava and Ari shared a look of pride for their little Ziva before Chava left to get a damp cloth.

As his stepmother left, Ari turned back to Ziva who was once again wincing in pain. "So, little sister," he said in an effort to distract her. "What did Father teach you today?"

Ziva immediately smiled before launching into a long list of tactical strategies and Krav Maga moves that she had learned from her father. Her youthful adoration of Micah David kept her from criticizing his teaching methods, or placing blame on him for her injuries. Ziva accepted them as her punishment for her weakness, and would not let them hold her back.

It was just the David way.

* * *

After that confrontation, Micah David had the freedom to train his daughter as aggressively as he wished.

Chava respected her daughter's wish, and stopped arguing with her husband, no matter how much she wanted to.

Ari made his displeasure known to their father, but kept his peace at home. Inside, anger grew each year, and the hatred between David and his son blossomed.

* * *

A presence at her elbow brought Ziva back to the bar in the present.

"Let me buy you the next one?" Michael Locke's voice came from behind her.

For the rest of the evening, Locke gave her the comfort she needed, the kind without attachment or risk. Ziva and Michael weren't looking for a relationship with each other, just the comfort of another body, another heartbeat, another soul while they waited for that one real relationship to return: the one where love came without limits or requirements or rationality.

Until then, however, they just need to know they weren't alone.

**Okay, another one bites the dust. It was a little dark, but hey, no one died! As always, keep those reviews coming! They are my little drops of sunshine in a cold and dismal world.**

**Okay, not really.**

**Peace,  
Hobbit Killer**


	13. If You Can't Take the Heat

**Well, it's been an age since I've updated, but I really wanted to get a story up before the season premier.** **We all know that Ziva loves to cook, so here she is cooking.**

**Drabble 13  
Title: "If You Can't Take the Heat" or "What's Cook'n Good Look'n?"  
Words: 1,462  
Warnings: very rusty writing  
**

Ziva tossed a palmful of oregano into the pot. The rich read tomato sauce was close to boiling, and the heavy aroma of a traditional combination of Italian herbs and spices blanketed the modest apartment, tucking in to every corner.

After giving the brew a quick stir, Ziva brought the spoon up to her nose. She gave it a brief sniff before tentatively blowing on it and taking a taste. After determining that the sauce was well on its way to completion, the Mossad assassin turned her attention to the frying pan that sat proudly in the place of honor on the front burner, where she could lavish it with the most attention.

Skillfully, Ziva used her tongs to maneuver the slightly sizzling chicken, turning it on its opposite side and revealing a perfectly browned mix of spices thinly coating the breast. As the chicken resettled, a drop of oil leapt from the pan, stinging the NCIS agent on the arm. Ziva didn't even flinch, however, and coolly turned the heat down on the burner.

Ziva had always loved cooking. As a child and teenager, it had been one of the few activities she could do with her mother.

Her father had always taken up the majority of her time as he groomed her for a future in Mossad, but he always gave her a break before dinner. The break was intended for Ziva to make herself as presentable as possible, so her mother wouldn't get angry about the rather aggressive training techniques her father employed. Ziva, however, generally skirted around that, simply splashing some water on her face before running to the kitchen, usually making it just in time for the fun part of the cooking to start.

Together, mother and daughter would prepare the meal in a state of controlled chaos. Spices and herbs were tossed haphazardly on pieces of meat or in pots of soup or stew or sauce. Rarely was a word spoken aside from the brief instruction Chava David occasionally gave her daughter, but Ziva had always treasured the time. Her experiences with death at a young age had instilled the idea of impermanence in the future assassin. The acceptance and expectance of death Ziva had in her youth was one that most people don't develop until they approached the twilight years of their lives.

Ziva understood that she would lose her mother one day (or her mother would lose her), so she decided that she would make sure to never neglect her duties as a daughter or pass up the opportunity to spend time with the woman who had nurtured her and given her life.

The first time Tali had been invited to help cook, Ziva had protested. This was _her_ time with her mother, not Tali's. Tali already got to spend a lot of time with their mother, because she, unlike her older brother and sister, was not being groomed for a life in Mossad. It had been a decision that the David's made before she was born.

Chava had demanded that she have one child who wouldn't be put in harms way day in and day out. Her husband, surprisingly, acquiesced. To him, Tali was a miracle, born at a time when they had been told that they could no longer have children, and, while he had never been much of a religious man, he knew not to throw a miracle away so rashly.

Eventually, however, Ziva grew to love having Tali in the kitchen with her as much as Ziva loved being in the kitchen with their mother. Now, the middle David child had someone _she_ could teach and guide and share her passion with. Unfortunately, it didn't last. As Tali grew, she found her own interests and was soon tired of the cooking routine. Ziva found herself missing her little sister as the youngest David helped out in the kitchen less and less.

As an adult in Mossad, cooking had become a cathartic activity for Ziva. Though she had always been a talented singer and pianist, Ziva had never had a gift for writing music or lyrics. She had little natural talent as an artist, and even less as a writer. Cooking, however, was an area where Ziva felt she could express herself by making up recipes and techniques, rather than just copying them out of a book. It soothed the young woman to be able to create something in her life, when most of it was spent in a crosswind of destruction she had no control over.

There were many days when Ziva would come home from training or a mission and lose herself in the aromas and soothing warmth of the kitchen. The effect being in the kitchen had on Ziva was very much the effect many women get from taking a long bubble bath. The atmosphere would just sink into her, flushing out tension and stress and replacing it with pure, deep emotional satisfaction. While many people see cooking as a chore, Ziva saw it as her one indulgence in life.

It didn't matter what time it was. Much of the time, Ziva was coming off of a night operation or shift and start cooking a full meal at seven in the morning. Often, Ziva would find herself with a several course meal that she had neither the time nor the need to eat.

Thus, the practice soon started of Ziva showing up at her boyfriend, Aaron's house at ten in the morning with a sleepy smile, and several Tupperware containers full of food. It was an odd breakfast arrangement, but both parties agreed it was the best part of the day.

"I think it needs more pepper."

Ziva's revelries were cut short by the voice of her partner. Turning, Ziva looked up to find him licking sauce from his finger.

"Did you just stick your dirty finger in my sauce?" She asked him incredulously, raising an eyebrow.

Tony was about to make an inappropriate comment about if him putting his dirty finger in her sauce was good for her, but changed his mind when he saw her reprimanding expression. "Umm…what would you do to me if I said yes?" he asked nervously. He was only now realizing that he had never been alone in the kitchen with Ziva before, and that, perhaps, accepting her offer to cook him food after their little adventure in the shipping container hadn't been the best idea.

"Well," Ziva said, as though contemplating the possibilities. "My mother used to always say that, if we stuck our fingers in the food, we had to eat the whole thing by ourselves, but I'm not sure if that would really be a punishment for you."

Tony smiled roguishly, clearly demonstrating that, no, that wouldn't be a punishment for him.

Ziva sighed dramatically. "I guess I can let you off with a warning this time. Yes?"

As Tony nodded, Ziva went back to her meal, throwing some linguini noodles into a boiling pot of water. "Dinner should be done soon, if you want to clean up a little more."

"I'm fine," said Tony, looking over Ziva shoulder as she did, in fact, add a little more pepper to the sauce.

"That wasn't a suggestion, Tony."

"Oh," Tony said. "Right. I'll just go clean up then."

As her partner left, Ziva smiled. This was her second night in a row that she had had guests from NCIS over for dinner. Last night's party had been a little impromptu gathering she had put together in an attempt to better integrate herself with her team mates. The only reason Tony hadn't been invited was because he had been bragging all week about the mud wrestling tickets he'd purchased, and Ziva didn't want him to feel obligated to cancel his plans.

Now, however, Ziva was very happy to be cooking for him. She liked spending time with him, and it was nice to be able to have a dinner with just the two of them. They had never really spent much time with each other outside of work except for the occasional dinner or lunch, so Ziva was hoping to take full advantage of this opportunity.

Ziva only invited special people to share her passion, because that was the way it had always been. Ziva considered a meal she cooked as a gift to whomever she was cooking for that was one of a kind.

As Ziva placed a steaming plate of pasta in front of Tony, whose eyes soon rivaled the dinner plates in diameter as he took in the gorgeous meal, she hoped that he felt the same way.


	14. Take Your Daughter to Work

**A/N I have to say, watching "Last Man Standing" really made be intrigued about Ziva's father. He seemed nice enough in the episode, but you could tell there was still some tension between father and daughter. So, I'm going to maintain my story line that I've shown you glimpses of in some of these drabbles in which David basically used Ziva as a recruit rather than a child.**

**Drabble 14  
Title: "Take Your Daughter to Work" or "His Masterpiece"  
Words: 452  
Warnings: None really...drabbles a little ho-hum, but it's otherwise fine. **

"Do you understand what's expected of you, Officer David?"

The nineteen year old nodded. "I do, Deputy Director." The response was crisp, curt, and direct. Ziva made sure not to introduce unnecessary words, inflection, or emotion.

Her father, Eli David, nodded in approval. As he looked at his oldest daughter, David congratulated himself on his accomplishment. Before him stood the perfect officer.

He had groomed her from the moment she could walk. When Ziva had fallen as an infant, she received a sharp reprimand in leu of the instant comfort most children are rewarded with. The future director of Mossad accepted nothing less than poise and grace from his child, and the awkwardness of childhood was no excuse to not achieve such.

Those standards remained a constant throughout Ziva's transition to adulthood. By the time she began official Mossad training, Ziva had already been conditioned to be admitted into Komemiute.

Ziva flew through the required training classes. Her scores in all areas of espionage, marksmanship, navigation, and linguistics as well as the various miscellaneous requirements, far surpassed her classmates.

Her instructor had deemed her the best recruit of his career. She was immediately cleared to run top level missions, while her fellow recruits were stuck doing basic intel analysis.

This was her first of those missions.

"Once you have completed this mission, you'll be made an official member of Komemiute," David told his daughter. "It is a great honor." David's inflection made it difficult for Ziva to decipher what her father thought about his daughter becoming an assassin.

Maintaining her posture, Ziva nodded in response.

David looked her up and down one last time before finally issuing a curt, "Dismissed," motioning for Ziva to leave the office.

"Thank you, Deputy Director," Ziva said before turning and leaving.

Eli watched as the door closed. He knew he would not be able to see or speak to his child for at least a month. He would be able to get updates through her control officer, but he would have no direct contact with her.

For a moment, Eli's hear clenched. He did love his daughter, a fact he only acknowledged in the back of his mind, and she was now entering one of the most dangerous careers in history. But then he reminded himself that he was doing this to create a better future. Ziva would be the weapon through which Eli would win the battle for is grandchildren to have a better Israel.

"She will be the sharp end of the spear," he resolved, reaching into his desk drawer for a bottle of scotch and a glass.

Pouring himself some, David slowly sipped. "May God forgive her."

**Okay, there it is. As always, reviews are welcome and appreciated. I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Peace,  
Hobbit Killer **


	15. Tired

A/N This drabble goes out to Ducky'sgirl4ever who asked me what my next story would be. I was actually a little embarrassed that I hadn't written anything NCIS in a while. So, here you go. The part about the ice is me venting my frustrations that my university (located in the Snow Belt of the United States) always fails to keep the sidewalks clean.

**Drabble 15**  
**Title: "Tired" or "_Miles to Go Before I Sleep_"**  
**Words: 300  
****Warnings: Very short. Another story inspired by the inspiration whore that was the elevator scene in "Cloak." Blatant Tiva.**

Ziva was tired of a lot of things.

In the winter, Ziva was tired of always having to run around the ice that was never salted a block into her morning route. In the spring, she was tired of getting mud on her pant cuffs from when the melted snow and rain saturated the ground and turned Washington back into a swamp. In the summer, she was tired of all of the tourists who came to DC, taking up the sidewalks with their walking tours and biking tours and Segway tours. In the fall, she was tired of convincing her father to renew her position with NCIS again at the end of the winter.

Ziva was tired of being asked what part of Mexico she was from even after she'd explained that she was from Israel, and of being asked how long she'd been in the country. She was tired of always being stopped at security for longer than her American colleagues because of her accent and foreign looks. She was tired of Tony always pointing out her English errors. She was tired of feeling like she didn't fit in the NCIS all American picture.

Ziva was tired of feeling a nervous rush tingle from her skin to her heart when Tony would grab her arm. She was tired of fighting the anger that would strike her when he flirted with other women. She was tired trying to pull him closer to her. She was tired of pretending that her whole being hadn't throbbed with loss at the thought of never having him.

Ziva was tired of a lot of things. But, part of being a Mossad operative was knowing that she must fight through fatigue. She could not allow herself to be dragged down what tired her. Life is about endurance, and Ziva would keep going until she hit the wall.

**So, there it was. I told you it was short. I hope you enjoyed it, and I hope you review.**

**Peace,  
Hobbit Killer **


	16. Unhappy Herald

A/N I'm back! I was thinking about the situation behind this for a while. This isn't exactly what I was planning to write, but it was a good little exercise. Spoilers for the beginning of Season 3.

**Title: "Unhappy Herald" or "The Resulting Catalyst" **  
**Words: 1,264  
Warnings: Sudden mood changes and choppy sentences **

**

* * *

**

"You may come in, Officer David." Eli David didn't look up from his work as his daughter entered the room.

Ziva entered the familiar office more slowly than she had ever done so previously. In the past, Ziva had to this place to report on her missions and those of the officers under her control. Rarely had she stood before her father's desk over personal matters. This time, Ziva's reason for entering was a little of both.

"Good afternoon, Deputy Director," Ziva's voice was controlled. While not cold, there was no trace of tenderness or fondness in either her voice or expression. She was already in enough trouble with Eli David as both his officer and his daughter; there was no need to dig herself deeper by appearing weak before him.

"I received the message you left me, before you boarded the plane to return." Deputy Director David's voice was steady, but he still hadn't risen his head to look up at her. "Officer Haswari is dead."

Ziva had prepared for this moment. She had rehearsed it in her mind over and over on the long plane ride. The rehearsal had kept her mind off of the actual subject of the conversation: the body in the cargo bay. However, the moment her father spoke that last sentence, all practice was made fruitless. Ziva's blood ceased to flow, but instead vibrated through her limbs, tingling and scratching her insides she struggled to suppress the cocktail of grief, guilt, anger, and fear flooding her psyche.

Ziva's prolonged silence finally provoked a reaction from David. "IS IT TRUE?" The violent change in the older Israeli's voice caused his normally unflappable daughter to flinch. Daring to look up from the spot on the floor she had previously claimed as her focal point, Ziva found her entire frame of vision filled with the visage of her furious father. David was now leaning forward on his desk, his posture and expression taut with withheld aggression.

Intimidated as she was, Ziva found the strength to croak out an answer. "Yes," she barely managed to get the word out of her trachea. "He's dead. His body is downstairs in the morgue."

"I'm surprised you didn't just leave him where he fell. You obviously didn't put much effort towards keeping him alive, so it's actually quite incredible that you extended any sort of respect towards your officer." The deputy director's voice had regained most of its usual aloofness, but his daughter was very aware of the only tentatively restrained anger that still hung on him.

The tingling discomfort that heralded future tears washed up Ziva's neck and inflamed her face. It was not the first time her father had held nothing back in one of his verbal attacks, but the nature of his accusation was more painful than any trite insult he had ever concocted before. Swallowing hard to restrain any visible outpouring of emotion, Ziva opened her mouth to speak. It took her three tries to get words passed the invisible softball that had swelled in her throat. Finally, she was able to speak again. "There was no choice! I had to..." The sentence exploded out of her as it was finally free to escape, and Ziva was barely able to restrain the final words in that sentence. Both Davids looked surprised at the outburst, but Ziva soldiered on regardless, hoping the deputy director hadn't caught her near confession. "Not only was Ari a traitor, but he was a murderer as well. If he had been allowed to continue, then not only would more innocent people die, but we would also lose many of the supporters from America we've come to rely on."

"You couldn't have brought him in alive?" Father and daughter both knew that Ziva was right, but Eli couldn't help but feebly continue the fight.

Noticing the slight deflation of tension, Ziva's voice came more softly and more confidently. "He would just have talked his way out of it." Emboldened by the slump in her father's shoulders, Ziva slowly approached the desk. When she was close enough, she reached out her hand and gently placed it on her father's bicep. "Please, Papa." What exactly she was pleading for, Ziva wasn't sure. Understanding? Forgiveness? Whatever it was, Ziva knew that she would never get it completely from her father. Even when he tried as hard as he could, which was rare, he never seemed to be able to do anything more than meet her halfway.

Eli sat down. With an uncharacteristic sigh, he said some relatively uncharacteristic words. "You are right." Ziva tried to keep her footing at her father's submission. Not noticing, Eli continued. "You're right about Ari." Suddenly, his gaze hardened. "But I am not ready or willing to forgive his killer." Ziva couldn't help but notice the fist her father had made was trembling slightly from the tautness of David's muscles. "That man took my son from me."

The room again fell into silence as David fell into reflection. He seemed older now, worn and tired.

Ziva, however, was trying to hide the tremors that had suddenly attacked her body at her father's words. She was caught between wanting to run away and wanting to scream. She wanted to escape her father's wrath desperately, but she also wanted to give them all closure.

In the end she chose to do neither.

"Should I handle the funeral arrangements?" Ziva wasn't really comfortable with arranging her brother's funeral, but it was the only offer she could think to make her father at that time.

"No," Eli responded. "I will do it. You should go to the house and get something to eat."

Ziva found herself immobile in her surprise. Her father had shifted so quickly from rage to care that she didn't know what to make of it.

While Ziva remained static, Eli had gone back to his paperwork. When he didn't hear her leave, he looked up. "You are dismissed, Officer David." He said, once again slipping into the character of Deputy Director David.

Ziva was brought out of her stupor, and, with a quick nod, left her father's office.

---

Ziva sat in her car for an hour in front of her father's house. Her mind whirled in a cloud of confusion. So much had happened in such a short amount of time. She was suddenly confronted with not only the revelation about Ari being a traitor and the fallout of killing him, but also with new questions about her father and her relationship with him.

It was too much. The weight of everything was crushing her and squeezing her and Ziva couldn't take it. Settled on that, she took out her satellite phone and dialed a familiar number.

"This is NCIS Director Shepard's phone, I am currently unavailable, but will return your call at the earliest convenience." Ziva's mouth turned minutely upwards as she listened to her friend's voice distorted through the phone. She must have just recorded that message the day before.

"Jenny, It's Ziva. I need your help."

Ziva hung up and took a deep breath. For the first time in a long time, Ziva was going to run away, and she had no idea how it was going to pan out.

* * *

**Okay, there it was. I'd like to take this time to thank my reviewers and silent readers for making this drabble collection one of my most successful works.**

**Keep it going by reviewing!**

**Peace,  
Hobbit Killer **


	17. The Divine Wet

A/N Hello again! This drabble was inspired by the torrent of rain falling over my campus today. My roommate was not pleased by it, but I love it. I went outside and just stood in it for a while, and this is what came to me. The fic is really almost more about Tony than Ziva, but it still works.

* * *

**Title: "When it Rains it Pours" or "The Divine Wet"**  
**Words: 553  
Warnings: A little cursing, references to previous episodes, purposeful repetition, a little Tiva which could be taken as friendship **

"It's raining."

Tony remembered the last time he had heard her say those words. It had been the night Gibbs had almost died after a bomb attempted to shred him apart against the wall of some God forsaken ship's laundry compartment.

"It's raining."

The same enigmatic smile she'd had then graced her features now. Her smile was toothless, pure, and happy. It was just a small upturn of her lips, but it lit up her entire face. That the smile was directed at him should have elated Tony, but it didn't.

"It's raining."

The childish wonder he heard in her voice made him want to vomit. Her smile strangled him, and he resisted the urge to clutch at his throat to reassure himself there wasn't a noose wrapped around it.

Tony had always hated the rain. Rain always shadowed everything horrible that happened in his life. It had rained the day his father cut ties with him, and the night that his mother died. It had rained the day he broke his leg in college. It had rained the night he had to kill someone for the first time when he was a cop in Philadelphia.

It had rained the night Kate was shot, and Gibbs was hurt. It rained the night he and Jeanne had been taken hostage.

"It's raining."

And, it was raining now.

Only this time, it wasn't Kate or Gibbs who was lying in pain, and cold, and blood.

It was Ziva.

It was Ziva whom he desperately clutched as he knelt in the pool of water that had collected in the pothole she'd rolled into. She was the one whom he held propped on his lap, hoping the legs, which he could no longer feel in the seeping cold, could provide her with some form of comfort.

He was angry that she delighted in the rain that he was futilely attempting to shield her from in order to keep her warm and out of the grip of shock. He wanted to shake her and demand that she tell him what was so damn great about annoying drops of water being pissed on them from the sky.

He wanted to curse her for being able to smile on the worst day of his life.

"It's raining."

He couldn't take it anymore, and was about to hush her when she continued this time.

"It was raining when we met."

Tony didn't speak again until close to midnight as he stood next to Gibbs as they listened to the doctor tell them that she was fine and would be awake soon. He said she had been lucky that the shot to her torso managed to miss practically any organ of value.

From listening to McGee's retelling of Gibbs's less than cordial interrogation of the bastard, Tony knew the doctor's statement about being lucky was achingly true. The man had been highly qualified on the firing range, and had Ziva well in his sights. He would have shot true if it hadn't been for the tiny slick stream of rain that had penetrated his grip, and the cramp in his arm from the cold.

Blinking rapidly (because of the harsh hospital lights as we all know DiNozzo men don't cry), Tony looked out the small waiting room window and smiled.

"It's raining."

* * *

**Okay folks! I really enjoyed this little fic, and I hope you did so too. I would now like to take the time to thank you for over 10,000 hits. I try not to beg for reviews, but I think it's worth noting that, with only five more, I can reach 100. It may not be a lot to some writers (lucky jerks), but that's a big deal for me and a drabble series that doesn't have the convenient plot twists or cliff hangers that bump up the number of reviews. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it just doesn't work for this collection.**

**Thanks and Peace,  
Hobbit Killer **


	18. Having Your Six

A/N Hello NCIS people. So I'm here with an update that is NOT A POST ALIYAH CONJECTURE. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with those. I've enjoyed reading several of them, but I think the Ziva section is becoming just a tad overwhelmed by them. So, here's a one shot I've been nibbling at for a while. It is inspired by five hours a week in a lounge in one of the buildings at my university and a thing that's been nagging me about the Tony/Ziva dynamic.

**Drabble 18  
Title: "Having Your Six" or "What Would You Do for a Chocolate Bar?"  
Words: 1,338  
Warnings: Assault on a vending machine **

* * *

**  
**

Ziva placed the quarter at the slot and let it fall in. Instead of hearing the muted _flunk_ of a coin landing on a bed of other coins, she heard the sharp _clank_ of the quarter falling straight through to the refund slot. Reaching down, the Mossad assassin retrieved the quarter with a restrained sigh before depositing it back in the candy machine. Again, it tumbled straight through. Letting the sigh loose this time, Ziva again repeated the process. Predictably, she was rewarded with a _clank_.

"You know, just putting the same quarter in over and over again isn't going to make the machine accept it."

Ziva rolled her eyes at her partner's appearance in the break room. "Not today, Tony," Ziva muttered as she again tried to will the machine into accepting her quarter. Again, the coin fell through.

As Ziva went to grab it again, however, she was prevented by a larger hand swiping the coin from under hers.

"I told you, Zee-Vah…" Tony forgot what he was going to say as he caught sight of his partner's face. "What's with the shiner?"

"The what?"

Ziva's tone surprised Tony. It was the same tone she used when he corrected her English a few too many times, the tone she had used with him through most of that case when she accused him of being xenophobic. The senior field agent took this as a hint to tread carefully. "The shiner," he soldiered on. "It's slang for a black eye. You know, the bruise."

Ziva glared. "_Oh this?"_ she asked angrily, pointing to the heavily swollen lower lid and cheekbone. "I got this from our 'friend' in interrogation. You know, the one you so generously allowed me to handle while you went and red-nosed up to Gibbs."

"The term is 'brown-nose.'" Tony's brain took a second to catch up to his mouth, too late to catch the correction before it escaped. He winced as Ziva's expression darkened predictably further. Trying to recoovr, he feebly asked, "So…what exactly happened?"

Ziva sighed angrily. "After you left, our friend would not stop pacing nterrogation. I asked him several times to sit down, but he refused–-Men are often surprisingly uncooperative when alone with a female officer, you know." This she said while looking directly into Tony's eyes, making him squirm awkwardly. After assuring she'd gotten under his skin, Ziva continued. "So, I was made to use physical force to get him in the chair. He seemed to have settled down a little, so I uncuffed one of his hands with the intention of cuffing the other to a table leg. Our friend then took this as an opportunity to lollipop punch me!" As she was speaking, Ziva's voice had increasingly risen in volume and intensity. Her last word was punctuated by her delivery of a roundhouse kick to the obstinate machine.

Tony watched in awe as six different snacks were simultaneously released and dropped. Eagerly, he reached down to claim a tasty chocolate bar. He was sure now that Ziva had just needed to blow off some steam after letting some civilian bouncer lay one on her. He was prevented from grabbing the confection, however, when an olive colored hand grabbed his, and a surprisingly forceful thumb attacked the pressure point there.

"That's mine," Ziva's voice was still hard as she punctuated her words with an extra squeeze.

"Actually, it's mine, Officer David." The humorless voice of Director Vance cut short what undoubtedly would have turned into an impressive staring contest.

"The vending machine is also mine, Officer David. Do we have to go over policy on theft and destruction of property at NCIS?"

Ziva was about to speak when Tony interrupted her.

"Sorry, Director. It was my fault." Tony shot Ziva a small grin before turning back to Vance.

"Of that I have no doubt," Vance stated levelly, giving Tony an un-amused look. "See that it doesn't happen again." Vance's eyes went to Ziva as he spoke, though his stance remained facing Tony.

Ziva nodded while Tony gave an over-enthusiastic nod accompanied by a, "Yes, Sir."

"Good." Vance didn't seem to see a need for his further scrutiny as he turned and walked out, not his agents, supposedly two of his best, a second glance.

"See, Ziva!" Tony said triumphantly. "I had you covered." Holding up his hands I a gesture of feigned modesty, he spoke with a phony accent. "No, no. No need to thank me for sparing you from the big bad Vance, fair Damsel."

Bowing, Tony smirked, waiting for Ziva's response.

The hard shove that sent him careening back into one of the soda machines far from what he expected.

"What the hell?" he challenged, glaring at Ziva who had the most intense gaze she offered fixed on him.

"You think Vance is the one I need saving from?" Ziva asked angrily. "You think _that_ was when I needed back-up?"

"…Uh…what?" Tony was thrown. He couldn't understand why she was still pissed after beating up the evil candy machine.

Ziva charged up to him, stopping only when their noses were practically touching. "You really don't know?" she asked in a harsh tone.

Tony opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off.

"Tony, where were you today, when I was fighting off a man twice my size?"

Tony looked at her incredulously. "That's what's got your panties in a twist?" he asked, disbelief in his tone. "Ziva," he said. "He was cuffed! I've seen you fight off a room full of marines all by yourself. You really expect me to fret every time you're alone with a dirt-bag?"

"I expect," Ziva spit back, "that you won't taunt suspects with _my_ fighting skills, and leave me alone to deal with them. I don't appreciate your shaking up a hornet's hive and tossing it to me while you run for cover!"

Tony was fortunate to be able to control his natural urge to correct her idiomatic mistake this time. Still, his actual action wasn't much better.

"Oh, come on," he shot out, his patience lost. "You are always bragging about how superior you are! What's the problem? Did you realize you're mortal, and now you need some one to blame for that?"

Ziva threw her hands up and started waling away. Stopping at the doorway, she spoke. "I'm not angry because I won't admit I'm not invincible," she said her voice shaking with quiet. "I'm angry because you don't realize I'm not."

Tony was stopped dead in his tracks. Any anger or frustration had vanished at her words and the sight of her tense back.

"That's not true," he said, his voice matching her level of quiet.

Ziva scoffed, turning on her toe so that she was once again facing him. "Tony…" she started, a tinge of exasperation in her voice. She was about to say more, but apparently decided against it. Instead she turned away once again and walked out.

Tony took three steps in the direction she had taken before stopping.

Heavily, he collapsed into a chair, vaguely noticing the pain when his elbow smacked against the table.

He didn't think he thought of Ziva as invincible. He _knew_ he had been silently terrified for her when she had been on the run from both the FBI and Iranians.

No, he decided, he didn't think of Ziva as invulnerable in the slightest. But, he also understood how Ziva could have come to that conclusion. When he was scared for her, he usually acted out with anger and cockiness.

Tony doubted Ziva actually _wanted_ him to hover and gnash his teeth every time she was endangered by the job. Still, he hoped that Ziva would bring herself to realize that he would always have her six.

* * *

**This is where I'd like to thank all of you for getting me past the 100 review mark! You guys are all awesome! I'm not going to give individual shout outs, because I'm too afraid of forgetting someone, so, to all of my frequent reviewers, thanks! You know who you are, but I'll confirm it for you if you need to know. Hopefully, our relationship will remain good for a while to come.**

**Thanks again for reading and reviewing!**

**Peace,  
Hobbit Killer **


	19. Lessons From Rodents

**A/N Okay, so I haven't finished anything for a while, but I got a little boost this morning because today is my birthday. (I'll wait for you to finish your revelry and celebration) Anywho, as many of you know, today is Groundhog Day. For those of you who don't know, today is Groundhog Day: a holiday started by German Americans in this country that involves a groundhog coming out of its hole. If the rodent sees its shadow, we are doomed to six more weeks of winter. If he doesn't, spring is just around the corner. **

**This holiday was captured in the great movie _Groundhog Day_ starring Bill Murray as Phil, a weatherman from the greatest city on earth, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania (which may or may not be my home town) who goes to cover the world's biggest Groundhog festival in Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Phil hates Groundhog day and the town, and is horrified to find himself in a time loop. He is the only person aware that the holiday is repeating itself over and over. Eventually, Murray uses the immortality he has acquired in this time loop to become a better person. Once he has completely changed, the time loop stops. If you want more than that, you should try to see the movie.**

**Drabble 19  
Title: "Lessons From Rodents" or "Running From Your Own Shadow"  
Words: 681  
Warnings: Excessive love of an old Bill Murray movie. Tiva if you want it to be, but this was mostly friendship.**

**

* * *

**

**"But why did the day keep repeating?" Ziva asked as Tony stood up, gathering their plates and left over pizza to ferry into the kitchen.**

"Ah, come on, Ziva" Tony pleaded. "You can't think about the answer to that, it ruins the movie!"

Ziva grabbed the TV remote, turning the television off before ejecting the DVD Tony had rushed to buy what yesterday after work. She opened her mouth to ask another question, but was cut off when she realized her partner was still answering the first one as he walked back into the living room and sat on her couch.

"I mean, it would have totally ruined the movie to have some person or entity sit Bill Murray down and explain everything to him. Learning the whys and hows would have made the whole thing less magical and awesome."

Ziva nodded as though she had heard Tony's whole rant instead of just the beginning and end. "And we _had_ to watch this movie at 6 in the morning?"

Tony grinned from ear to ear. "Well, of course my little woodchuck chucker! I've always wanted to do this: watch _Groundhog Day_ at the time the day would always restart for Bill, and watch it on Groundhog Day!"

Ziva rolled her eyes at his over enthusiasm. "And the reason I had to stay up all night with you so we could accomplish this task?"

"Come on, Zee-Vah!" Tony nudged her arm. "Aren't you supposed to be learning American history and culture? _Groundhog Day_ is a deep look at one of our most revered and folksy holidays!"

"I'm not sure how watching a movie about a town that worships a rodent is going to help me pass my citizenship test."

It was now Tony's turn to role his eyes. "It's not about that, Ziva. It's about small town America. People who love their communities and celebrate their quirks and traditions with gusto."

When Ziva just shrugged in response, Tony continued. "And it's about getting chances: not just second chances, but as many as you need until you get it right."

Ziva turned to look at Tony, and their eyes met for a moment before she turned away. "Unfortunately," she said, "Life doesn't come with an automatic reset button. Murray was able to have chance after chance, because he was the only person who remembered his mistakes."

"True," Tony said. "But he _did_ recognize his mistakes. In some cases, that's all it takes to get back on track." As he said this he sent Ziva a soft smile.

"Well," he said. "I'm going to try to catch an hour of sleep before work. How about you?"

Ziva shook her head. "I'm going to go for a run."

Tony shrugged. "Whatever. Your overnight bag is in the hall closet."

Ziva nodded, going over to the closet and pulling her running clothes and shoes out of the bag. Unabashedly, she changed in the middle of Tony's living room before heading down to the street.

As Ziva's feet hit the pavement, the frigid February air found a direct path into her lungs. Ziva sucked it in before setting off, letting the quit thumping of her feet on the pavement calm down her racing thoughts. This wasn't the first time Tony had brought up change and second chances, and his inconsistency on the issue was driving Ziva crazy. One day he was declaring that she'd always be the killer, the assassin, her father had trained her to be, the next he was prodding her and pushing her to complete her transformation.

Ziva sighed, coming to a stop before she became so distracted that she'd run into a streetlamp or something. Looking down, Ziva looked at the dark shape stretching out from her sneakers and across the pavement; her dark and constant doppelganger. Suddenly, Ziva smiled. "Well," she said, "I guess I can live with six more weeks of winter if spring is on the other side."

* * *

**Hoped you enjoyed it. **

**Peace, and Happy Groundhog Day  
Hobbit Killer **


End file.
